


Sex, Drugs and Rock 'n Roll

by Dancingdog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Hate to friends to love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rockstars, band au, bit of fighting, mentions of drug usage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/pseuds/Dancingdog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The Archs</em> are a famous (infamous amongst some) rock group that sing about what's true to their hearts, even if that means angering the government with their political messages.</p><p>A tragic shooting causes the seemingly dysfunctional family to fall deeper into trouble.</p><p>Cue the Winchesters, two no-nonsense body guards hired by Michael to keep his reckless family members in line and stop them from getting into difficulties with the police. Problem is, none of the band members are quite what they seem and Sam and Dean find themselves falling for two in particular. Will the family's self esteem issues prove too difficult for the brothers to overcome?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_The Archs_ were a relatively modern rock group that had only recently risen to fame because of their tendency to write about anything political or any scandalous news stories. They would then obtain more fans because the people agreed with them when the law punished them and so _The Archs_ continued to compose controversial music to express everyone's opinions and due to popular demand, the law system could do nothing to stop them (except throw them in jail every now and again or fine them heavily). 

To the band's manager and the accountant (and to some extent, the tech expert), this was worrisome.

The more press they attracted, the more unwanted followers they created, which meant that accidents like the one that had occurred a little over six months ago had a chance of happening more frequently.

One of the most noticeable features about _The Archs_ (other than their government-angering music) was the fact that most of the band was composed of family members. 

Lucifer was the lead singer; the second oldest brother of the Novak Family and all-round wild-child. He was often in the limelight of the press and usually for the wrong reasons. He drank, used drugs (of the illegal variety), gambled recklessly with not only his money, but sometimes his life with stupid stunts such as club brawls, motorbike joy-rides and many other daring idiosyncrasies. He wasn't all bad though; he adored his fans and actually cared about what they believed in (even if he didn't seem to care what they thought of him). He only sang what was true in his eyes and he would never let the media cloud his judgement or be forced into speaking about things he didn't believe in.

Gabriel was the fourth oldest brother and the band's guitarist and back-up vocalist. He was similar to Lucifer in that he was often in the spotlight for the wrong reasons. He was charismatic and that often got him a lot of attention from men and women alike. Most were looking for a chance to boast about a fantastic night in bed with the famous Gabriel Novak, but some deluded fans really believed that the guitarist saw them as something special. He also drank more than his kidneys would have liked and, like Lucifer, was often caught on camera saying obscenities that would land him in quite a bit of trouble when the law caught up with him. However, he loved his fans and the music they wrote and it showed when he was on stage. When he started playing, there was nothing anyone could do to distract him.

Cousin Balthazar Roche was the bassist. He, like Gabriel, attracted attention from both men and women. Unlike Gabriel, he mainly only flirted and when he took anyone to bed, it was because he actually liked them (it just so happened that many tended to use him as a conquest and then left him after a few weeks or even days when they realised what his schedule entailed). Still, Balthazar enjoyed his love life and the socialising scene of band work. Unfortunately, he was also known to be extremely arrogant and got into a variety of arguments with lots of people (celebrities and fans alike) because of his tendency to blow his own trumpet and condescend people at the same time. He wasn't the most well-liked player but he didn't seem to care.

The last member of the band was the drummer; a woman named Abaddon. She wasn't a family member and was possibly the most scheming member of the band. People loved her because of her looks and the confident way she took to the stage; commanding and quiet. One wrong move and she would only have to send one look your way before you would be carted out of the hall by security. She only socialised with celebrities at her level (or higher) and unlike the other band members, wanted nothing to do with her fans. The band was a job and nothing more; a way to make money. It didn't matter to her what music they wrote as long as they were paid for their efforts. 

She was also a massive diva when she wanted to be.

If she didn't get her way, or they produced a song she didn't think would make money, everyone knew about it. Usually, there were biting or snide remarks to the other players (and sometimes even fans) and on a couple of memorable occasions, she actually threw a tantrum on stage and left the concert early, leaving the band to pack up and trail off after her, heads bowed in embarrassment.

Yet, people thought she was stunning and no one could deny that she was a fantastic drummer, so she stayed in the band.

Michael Novak was the eldest brother and most level-headed family member. Although, that was to be expected considering he was the band manager. He organised gigs, interviews, meetings and many other events. He could often be found scolding one of the band members for their careless behaviour (not that they particularly listened to him) and had apologised for their mistakes one too many times. If it wasn't for him, the band would have fallen apart after its first week and Gabriel and Lucifer would probably have life sentences by now. Michael was calm and collected, smoothing over arguments with ease, but it was well known that he and Lucifer disagreed more than they agreed on matters, meaning the two fell out more often than not, which made Michael become more introverted and Lucifer become more rash.

Raphael Novak was third oldest brother and the band's tech support. He created the dazzling light shows everyone knew and loved and fixed any equipment that was playing up, including, but not limited to: amplifiers, instruments, microphones, speakers, lasers and many more. He was quiet, rarely seen on stage except to test equipment and was careful about how he was seen in public. He tended to keep out of family tiffs.

The last family member and youngest of the bunch was Castiel Novak, adopted brother and the band's finance manager. He worked out what money was coming in, what money went out for new equipment and if they could afford the costs for damages to the hotels because of his family's careless partying. He was intelligent and quiet and like Raphael, could rarely be seen on stage, if ever. 

He never used to be though. He used to support his brothers at every concert, a smile on his face as he watched them enjoy themselves, but the incident that occurred a little over six months ago caused him to hide away in whatever hotel room they were staying at that day and deal with paperwork until it was time to go to sleep. People often saw him as cold because he didn't like to be in the spotlight of the press and he rarely socialised (unless it was to drag his drunken family from a club). There were rumours that he didn't even know the songs his brothers composed anymore and to a few judgemental characters, Castiel was the broody child that got adopted into a fun-loving family and then turned his nose up at them even though he was _'lucky'_ to have escaped whatever orphanage he came out of.

Castiel never denied or affirmed these claims.

There were other people running behind the scenes of the band, but none of them were as famous as the brothers, Balthazar and Abaddon, so they tended to be forgotten about.

In Michael's opinion, his family's affinity for the limelight wasn't always a good thing.

A little over six months ago, at a gig in Kansas, three of the band's followers had shown up and taken a few potshots at the band members. Luckily, none of them had been hit, but Castiel's fiancé; a young, cheeky woman by the name of Meg, had been caught between the eyes when she had tried to run to Castiel's side. Castiel had screamed out and attempted to get to her, but Gabriel and Lucifer had dragged him away, terrified that he would be the next one to drop to the floor. 

The concert goers had all been panicked and the three men, who had later been found out to have strong political views and hated that the band threw around controversial political messages so easily, were quickly arrested. It didn't make the band feel any safer though and that's when Castiel had stopped attending his family's concerts.

Michael had spoken to them about the importance of laying low for a while (which lasted a whole three weeks before Lucifer got into trouble with the police for drunkenly hitting a club-goer who had a lot to say about Balthazar). If anything, the incident caused Lucifer and Gabriel to be more reckless and Balthazar to be more detached from people in general (which in turn, gave people more ammunition to say cruel words about him and for more people to try to seduce him and boast about it the next day). 

Pictures circulated Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and just about every other social media source on the planet and _The Archs_ became a topic of discussion on whether they would crash and burn, or rise to infamy merely because of their unprofessional behaviour.

The tabloids said the stress of fame was too much for them to handle, the critics complained they cared little about their music and more about being in the headlines for infantile stunts, whilst the die-hard fans insisted they still loved their followers and the music they produced.

Needless to say there were a lot of mixed opinions.

Michael however, cared first and foremost about his family's safety, which is why six months after the shooting, he called for a couple of highly-trained security men to keep track of his family and make sure no one ever got hurt again.

That is where Sam and Dean Winchester come into things.

They were the two highly-trained body guards that Michael had hired through Crowley (their boss). He had advertised the job to them as a very affluent family wanting two strong personalities to keep tabs on certain family members in hopes of preventing them from getting into too much trouble with the police. He told them all they'd have to do was make sure the family didn't start any club brawls and didn't get too intoxicated when in company and that was all the job really entailed.

The Winchesters expected to have to babysit some bratty rich kid and tell him that drugs and alcohol were bad, keep in school, then get paid a large sum of money and that would be the end of it.

They weren't expecting to have to babysit some bratty, rich rockstars.

Dean cursed Crowley under his breath as he and his brother walked into Michael's rather spacious office.

Due to the Winchesters' strict job profile, they often didn't get a chance to listen to the charts each week, but it was difficult to not have heard the stories of _The Archs'_ personal affairs. 

Needless to say that the Winchesters weren't impressed.

Why should they have to look after some arrogant, loud-mouthed, brainless, self-proclaimed rock stars when the band members themselves seemed intent on getting into trouble with the press, the police, the government and many other celebrities without caring what they were doing to their own reputation? Why should they risk their lives protecting people who thought nothing of sleeping around, getting drunk, dealing with drugs and becoming violent? These people were idiots and behaved like toddlers of their own accord; why should Sam and Dean care about them?

Still, when dark-haired, fairly tall, black-suited Michael told them about the amount of money they'd receive, Sam and Dean couldn't help but be tempted.

"All you have to do is ensure they don't do something thoughtless when in public," sighed Michael wearily and the Winchesters had to wonder how many people had turned down the job. 

"So basically we escort your family from place to place, make sure they don't go crazy and take down any hit men if we see them?" Asked Dean gruffly, not sure if the money was worth having to guard these jerks.

"That's about it," agreed Michael. "Will you take the job?"

The brothers shared a look and a silent conversation took place before Dean turned back to the older man.

"Alright. We'll do it. When do we start?"

Michael looked genuinely surprised. "Immediately," he said as he shuffled through paperwork. "We will pay for your accommodation, general maintenance and nutrition, but you will have to pay for any luxuries. You will be required to sleep in rooms next to ours if we are staying in a hotel. We have spare rooms at our house in New York. Your contract," he placed a small stack of papers in front of the brothers, "will last for a year, in which time I will assess whether you are suitable for the job and if so, will discuss the possibilities of hiring your services for a longer period."

Suddenly, his face grew cold and stern. "Use my family in _any_ way and I have no problems with firing you, calling your boss and informing the police. I do know people; people who could make your life very difficult if you choose to take advantage of me or my family and I will not hesitate to call upon them."

The brothers narrowed a glare at him; that was not a tone he should be using on the two people who were supposed to protect his precious family and the pair took offence to someone questioning their skills in their chosen profession. Who did Michael think he was?

"We assure you that we are only interested in doing the job and getting paid. We have no ulterior motives," said Sam lowly and Michael's gaze lingered pointedly on them for one more moment before he flicked to the back of their contracts.

"Sign here please."


	2. Common Courtesy

"Not that I'm complaining, but I don't remember asking for two hunks of muscle to accompany us to our family meetings," said a short, blonde man, eyes roaming over both Winchesters' bodies as an appreciative grin lit his face. Balthazar, Raphael, Castiel and Lucifer followed him into the hotel's business suite serving as Michael's office for that week.

Dean pulled a face and Sam rolled his eyes as Michael glanced at his brother reproachfully.

"This is Sam and Dean Winchester. They are going to be working as our personal security guards from now on. I want you to treat them with respect and kindness, just as you would any other guest. If they are to work as our protectors, we can at least show them some common courtesy." 

Throughout Michael's introduction, the rest of his family's faces fell in a concoction of disbelief, anger and outright refusal to comply.

"You mean you hired them to keep an eye on us?" Sneered Lucifer as he glanced at both Winchesters with distaste.

Michael frowned and was about to protest when Gabriel snorted.

"I'm not letting some glorified babysitter follow me around everywhere. I'm a grown man; I can do what I want."

Michael's face darkened and the Winchesters were impressed with his ability to intimidate his brothers so quickly.

"No, Gabriel. That's the point of this exercise. You _aren't_ free to do what you like, when you like it because that's how people like us get into trouble with the law. It's how we lose respect from our fans and it's how we garner bad reviews from critics. It's why venues are reluctant to take us on and it's why other celebrities; the ones that actually _deserve_ a fan-base, tend to avoid us."

Gabriel scowled and tried to argue; the fan comments had stung, when Michael took a step forward, causing him to back up. Michael glared at his family, forcing them to lower their gazes in submission.

"You think you can do as you please. You chose to be in the eye of the public and so, you must behave like responsible adults if you wish to be treated as such. Not only are you degrading yourselves by drinking, gambling, yelling, _brawling_ ," spat Michael and Lucifer actually flinched at that, "you are shaming this family. You are disgracing your fans and the music you work so hard to produce will go to waste because eventually, people won't want to listen to a group full of ignorant, immature, careless fools." 

Michael's voice turned low, stern as he murmured to the other men.

"Time and time again I have tried to save this family, yet you seem intent on ignoring me. So be it. You've brought this on yourselves. If I can't control your idiotic behaviour, then I'll find someone who can. Sam and Dean seem like two very capable gentlemen, wouldn't you say?" He glanced at the imposing Winchesters, their stances stiff and formal, dark suits neatly pressed and faces void of emotion as they watched the proceedings impassively.

Michael allowed a small, pleased smile to cross his face as he turned back to his family.

"I think so. Shall we see if they're as good as they look?"

Gabriel, Lucifer and Balthazar lowered their gazes even further, knowing that the threat was aimed at them and them alone.

Still, it didn't stop a bitter smirk from crossing Lucifer's face, nor did it stop the plot forming in Gabriel's mind as he thought of ways to show his brother that he wouldn't be mollycoddled by two tough strangers. Nobody had the right to tell him what to do. 

After all, that was the whole reason they'd all moved away from their parents.

Balthazar, on the other hand, seemed to take it all in good grace and he nodded solemnly. Nobody saw the challenging wink he sent the Winchesters, except the brothers themselves.

Sam and Dean shared a meaningful glance. It looked as though this family was going to make it difficult for them to perform their duties. Good thing the brothers were experts in _'gentle persuasion'..._

 

* * *

 

"Y'know, you don't have to follow me around like some lost little puppy. I'm more than capable of walking from my room to the lobby without getting knifed," drawled Gabriel as Sam matched his pace exactly four steps behind.

The younger Winchester refused to speak and Gabriel rolled his eyes. 

"Well aren't you a little ray of sunshine?"

Once again, no response.

Gabriel shrugged and made his way to the lift, humming along to the catchy music in a way he hoped would grate on Sam's nerves.

Sam's expression remained neutral.

Gabriel pulled a face in distaste before evacuating the lift and making a beeline towards the pretty brunette behind the reception desk. He quickly glanced at the girl's name tag before plastering on his most charming smile.

"Hi. Sally, wasn't it?" 

The girl's eyes widened in surprise before a gentle pink hue dusted her cheeks and she fell right into Gabriel's trap.

"Um... yeah. You're Gabriel Novak, right? I'm kind of a big fan," she smiled shyly.

Gabriel grinned. "Good to hear!" He leaned in conspiratorially and the girl blushed further. "Hey, think you can do me a favour?"

She nodded eagerly and Gabriel's face lit up in apparent delight. "Think you could give me directions to the nearest bakery? I'm craving something sugary and although you fit the bill, I don't think even I can handle something so sweet." He winked and Sally giggled as she looked away. She typed something out on the computer before looking back to Gabriel, smile soft and flattered.

"Two blocks over to your left have some of the best chocolate gateau on the continent. I've been there a couple of times myself and it's to die for."

Gabriel chuckled warmly. "Sounds like my kind of place."

He gently picked up her hand from its position half way across the desk and brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly.

"Thank you, my kind lady. Your help is much appreciated."

Sally gasped lightly and her face flushed red, smile bright and awestruck as Gabriel pretended to tip his hat that didn't exist and he whirled on the spot and made his way to the door, Sam hot on his heels as his eyes rolled so hard they almost fell out of his head.

"And that is how you make a lady feel good about herself," grinned Gabriel as Sam remained silent. "Take notes, Sammykins, you might learn something."

The younger man said nothing, but he frowned at the unwanted nickname.

When they finally reached the little bakery, Gabriel whistled appreciatively at the array of cakes, biscuits and other sweet goods.

He picked out four slices of different cakes (including a piece of the recommended chocolate gateau), a slice of devil's food cake (for Lucifer apparently) and an extravagant-looking biscuit for Balthazar (so he commented) before glancing briefly at Sam.

"You want something, Mr. Roboto or you gonna be miserable all day?"

"I'm fine, thank you," said Sam quietly and Gabriel made a big show of sighing as though the weight of the world were upon his shoulders.

"Are you always this boring? Lighten up, grumpy gills."

Sam frowned slightly but merely watched as Gabriel asked for a large jam-filled biscuit.

"Raph thinks I haven't noticed he sneaks these when he doing tech-y stuff," he offered by way of explanation, but it wasn't really aimed at Sam any more than it was aimed at himself.

In the end, he picked up something for Michael and Castiel as well and the bill came to an impressive forty dollars before they left the shop.

"Nothing for Abaddon?" Sam asked idly, guessing the sugary goods were going to be distributed at the band's rehearsal later that evening.

Gabriel snorted.

"Believe me, nothing could sweeten that bitter old witch."

Sam raised an eyebrow and Gabriel refused to elaborate. 

 

* * *

 

Dean sighed. He had another hour to kill before the band's rehearsal and he didn't feel the need to stay in the same room as Lucifer and Balthazar when Michael was also present. He preferred to wait outside and be alone with his thoughts than have some annoying, infantile brats emanate arrogance and stupidity in a way that made Dean want to punch something.

A thought occurred to him and he found his feet following the path to the door of the elusive Castiel.

He knocked quietly and there was a pause before the door opened to reveal Castiel's frowning features.

"I thought I told you to leave me- Dean?" His frown morphed to one of confusion. "Is there a problem?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "No. I wanted to check on you."

Castiel nodded. "In that case, I'm fine." 

He was about to shut the door when Dean wedged his foot in front of it. He was suddenly glad that he had chosen to wear steel-toed shoes.

"Mind if I come in?" He asked in a way that prevented argument and Castiel looked ready to protest before thinking better of it and opening the door fully.

Castiel immediately made his way back to his desk and focused on his paperwork as Dean took a good look around. The room was tidy, spotless actually and Dean noticed that none of Castiel's belongings were on show, which was odd when you thought that the family had been staying at the hotel for over three weeks.

Had Castiel not unpacked anything since arriving?

Dean glanced at the endless paperwork littering the desk before looking at the tired lines of Castiel's face, the purple arcs underneath his eyes and the dull paleness of his skin.

"So... how long you been working?" He asked when Castiel offered no indication of speaking.

"Twelve years."

Dean blinked at the blunt tone. "I meant today."

"Twelve hours."

Dean opened his mouth then snapped it shut again.

"That's... ah... that's a long time."

Castiel said nothing.

"Aren't you tired?"

"No."

"...Oh."

After a few more moments of silence, Castiel glanced up at Dean sharply.

"Is that all?"

Dean snapped back to reality.

"Huh?"

"Is everything to your satisfaction?" Asked Castiel, voice beginning to betray his irritation.

"Um... yeah."

Castiel stood then and paced towards the door.

"Then maybe your time would be more productive spent elsewhere." He opened the door and Dean felt that those words were more effective than the other times he'd literally been kicked out of somewhere.

"...Okay," he agreed hesitantly and as soon as he stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him and Dean let out a breath of relief he didn't know he'd been holding as his muscles relaxed from their achingly tight position.

After a pause, Dean shook his head in bemusement.

Obviously Castiel was as cold as the rumours made him out to be.

 

* * *

 

"The guy's as emotional as a brick! I tell ya Sammy, a statue would be more expressive. He speaks as though he's presenting a law case and he has absolutely no social skills whatsoever."

Dean shook his head as he undid his tie, throwing it over the back of the chair because he knew it would annoy his brother.

He heard Sam's laugh from the bathroom.

"At least you didn't have to take a trip downtown with Gabriel. That man is the definition of 'egotistical womaniser'."

Dean grinned as his brother emerged from the little ensuite, a little frown marring his face when he spotted Dean's tie slung over the chair.

"That bad, huh?"

"He speaks to people as though they should be honoured he decided to grace them with his presence. He flirts with anything on legs and eats his own bodyweight in sugar. If he doesn't get an STD first, the diabetes is gonna kill him."

Dean smirked. "At least he actually knows how to hold a conversation; I don't think Castiel has ever spoken to anything that wasn't an inanimate object."

"He can't be that bad."

"Trust me. I'd be surprised if he has a single friend outside his family, and I'm not entirely convinced his own family like him."

"Rumours are he doesn't get along with his family anymore. Blames them for the shooting or something. Didn't someone get killed?"

Dean nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. Some girl. His fiancé I think, if you can believe that."

Sam snorted. "What a jerk. Who blames their family for their partner getting shot?"

Dean shrugged. "Told you; guy's as cold as ice. Sits in his room for hours on end sorting through paperwork. I bet he doesn't know what the outside world looks like."

Sam chuckled. "Did you sit in the rehearsal?"

"Nah. Michael told me to get something to eat. I guess they don't need us when they're practicing."

Sam hummed in agreement. "He said the same thing to me. I'm not complaining. I don't think I'd be able to stand being with Gabriel any longer than I have to and that Balthazar strikes me as a man who thinks he's above everyone else."

"Jerks all around," groaned Dean as he flopped into bed.

"Raphael doesn't seem too bad."

"I suppose," conceded Dean as he shifted to get more comfortable. "And that Abaddon isn't too hard on the eyes."

Sam pulled a thoughtful expression. "Gabriel doesn't seem to like her. Said she was a _'bitter, old witch'_."

"He doesn't? Well, that's a plus in my book. Maybe she's the only normal one around here."

"That's not what the tabloids say."

"What star doesn't throw a tantrum every now and again? It comes with the territory."

Sam rolled his eyes in amusement. "She's not gonna sleep with you, dude."

Dean beamed at his brother's (correct) conclusion. 

"I can be very persuasive."

Sam snorted. "Whatever you say. It's your funeral."

"Not a bad way to go."

"She's more likely to stick a well manicured nail in your eye than hop into bed with you."

"Wanna bet?"

"I wouldn't like to take advantage of someone as deluded as you."

"You wound me, Sammy."

Sam huffed out a laugh as he slid into the bed opposite his brother's.

"I think it's funny how they're going to try to make our jobs harder and they actually think they're going to succeed."

"Too bad we're ex-military, huh?"

"I guess escorting famous figures through volatile war zones in backwater countries puts us in good stead for babysitting a few estranged rockstars."

Dean huffed. "All I know is the less contact I have with these guys, the better. I don't want to talk to them any more than I have to."

"Agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! I am trying to get the story out as quick as possible! ;) Hope you enjoyed the chapter, the third one is half-written. Once again, improvement, criticisms and the like are greatly appreciated!


	3. Setting the Scene

"People aren't going to sleep with me if they think I have a gigolo following me."

Sam barely resisted the urge to throttle Gabriel. 

"That's the plan," he muttered dryly and Gabriel snorted.

"Finally, he speaks!"

Lucifer chuckled beside them, two Margaritas on the rocks in hand as he surveyed the club for someone to chat to and offer a drink.

"I'm surprised you haven't eloped with him yet, Gabriel. It's not like you to not jump at someone as strong and good-looking as him."

Both Sam and Gabriel turned their noses up in disgust, which only seemed to amuse Lucifer further.

Suddenly, Gabriel's eyes twinkled in delight. _"Hellooo, gorgeous."_ Then he was off and Sam frowned as he lost sight of him in the crowd.

He dragged Lucifer into the throng of grinding, sweaty bodies on the dance floor, ignoring the older man's protests that he was talking to someone and caught up to the shorter man as he flirted with a young blonde thing by the back wall.

"Hey, Sweetheart, can I get you a drink?"

The girl batted her eyelashes and Sam had to physically stop himself from gagging.

"Sure," she said in the most sugary voice she could muster and Gabriel grinned, taking her arm in his and turned to make his way to the bar.

Sam stepped in front of him.

"Sorry, miss. Gabriel has somewhere he should be-"

"Don't listen to him. He's jealous that he can't talk to anyone as beautiful as you. I've tried to teach him, but he just stutters out incoherent nonsense whenever he's faced with features as stunning as yours."

"What?" Sam asked, confused and Gabriel only smirked and continued to weave his elaborate story.

"It's a real problem for him. Shame too. He's a good-looking guy and he'd do well with a dazzling girl like you if only he could muster up the courage to hold a conversation with one. I believe it's a psychological issue though, but we're working with him."

"...What?"

"See? Can't get the words out; you're that beautiful."

The young girl blushed and smiled shyly at Gabriel as Sam felt his mouth try to argue when his brain drew a blank.

"It's alright, darling. Don't be shy. I'll take care of poor Sammy here. You have a chat with Gabriel," drawled Lucifer before he turned to Sam with mock reassurance.

"Don't worry, Sam. We'll get you through this. One day you'll be able to socialise with the opposite gender just as we do."

Gabriel winked at Sam cheekily before gesturing towards the bar. 

"Shall we?" He asked the young girl and she clung tighter to his arm as they made their way over.

"Wait-" began Sam but Gabriel subtly flipped him off and Lucifer cackled as he swung the younger man into a dance, efficiently distracting him and embarrassing him at the same time.

Sam shook him off with a scowl and a warning glare and Lucifer laughed as he slung an arm around his shoulder.

"You're new to the territory, kid. This is our domain. Let us have our fun and then you can traipse around after us again once we leave."

"My job is to watch over you," grated out Sam, patience wearing thin.

"And you can do that from the table in the far corner. Listen, Sam, we do this all the time. We haven't needed you to look after us before and we don't need you now."

Sam narrowed a glare at his smirking visage. "I'm being paid to-"

"Michael doesn't have to know. Look, I know you don't like us and to be honest, we're not all that fond of you either. So lets stay out of each other's way and we won't feel the need to strangle one another quite so soon."

"I'm not lying to your brother."

Lucifer grinned toothily. "We're better at this game than you, Sam. Been playing it longer. You want to win and you've got to be better than us. You really think that tattling to big brother is going to make you better?"

Sam frowned, trying to puzzle that out. Was Lucifer challenging him? Did he really expect Sam to stoop to his level? Or was he baiting Sam into losing his job?

"I'll do what I think is right," he settled on and Lucifer snorted.

"Gabriel's right. You are boring."

"I'm honest."

Lucifer smirked. "Good luck with that."

Then he slipped off into the crowd and Sam didn't spot him for the rest of the night so he sat a little way away from Gabriel and his date, watching them flirt and chat as he considered Lucifer's words.

At one point, the blonde (whose name Sam still didn't know) put a hand on Gabriel's thigh and the shorter man grinned and they disappeared too. Sam would have put a stop to it, but he'd already checked the club's back rooms an hour earlier and hadn't noticed anything potentially dangerous. He also knew that no one had remained in that room since half an hour previous and Gabriel and his date would have a little privacy if they were planning on using the snooker table as a suitable surface for their _'activities'_. 

Still, he _did_ lean on the wall beside the room, just to make sure nothing untoward happened to his charge. Just because he didn't care for Gabriel didn't mean he wouldn't do his job.

Three hours later, Lucifer reappeared, smelling of alcohol and something herb-like as he swayed lightly on his feet. 

"I'm guessing Gabriel got lucky?" Lucifer slurred, but he didn't look too happy at the thought and Sam wondered at that.

"He did," confirmed Sam and Lucifer scowled.

"Does he even know her name?"

"Probably not."

The older man snorted in disgust. "Typical."

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow. How dysfunctional was this family when they constantly complained about each other behind one another's backs? No wonder Michael couldn't control them; they had no respect for each other.

At least he and Dean knew they had each other's backs. Family was the most important thing to him and his brother; they were the people you went to when you were at your lowest.

When the Novak family was at their lowest, they went to the nearest strip club or hit the closest bar. What kind of family was that?

Sam turned away from Lucifer's inebriated and drug-ridden form, unable to look at a man who cared so little for his own brothers.

Half an hour later, Gabriel emerged from the room, shirt not buttoned correctly and tie missing whilst his hair pointed in every possible direction.

The blonde woman kissed him messily (her appearance no better than Gabriel's) and he grinned at her as she tangled her expertly manicured nails into his hair.

"Thanks for the drink," she purred. "Call me sometime." Then she sashayed her hips exaggeratedly as she prowled out of the bar, never once looking back at her most recent lover.

Gabriel's grin remained bright and satisfied until the doors shut behind her and then his whole body seemed to sag. He took one glance at the tipsy Lucifer and sighed before coming to stand by his side.

"Come on, Luci. Time to go."

Sam thought the interaction odd, but he didn't want to inflict any more of their teasing remarks upon himself so he followed them out, a mere two steps behind. 

Lucifer leaned heavily on his brother and his expression was solemn as he glanced at Gabriel through glazed eyes.

"You're a mess."

Gabriel snorted out a humourless laugh. "Listen to the pot calling the kettle."

Lucifer focused his attention back onto putting one foot in front of the other and Sam almost had to catch him at one point when he stumbled and tipped backwards. Fortunately, Gabriel wasn't as drunk (or as high) as his brother and he quickly caught him.

Sam though the action looked like one executed by an experienced man.

Nobody spoke for the remainder of the walk back to the hotel and Sam half expected Michael to round the corner and yell at him for not keeping the pair under control.

He didn't.

Sam made sure the pair were safely locked in their rooms before he trudged his way back to his own room, Dean already asleep, still dressed in most of his suit after having looked after Balthazar for the entire day.

Sam shook his head before slumping into bed.

 

* * *

 

"It's rude to stare."

"You have scuff marks on the back of your knuckles."

"...I fell into a wall."

"Liar."

"I'm not. I had a little too much to drink and scraped my knuckles when I was leaning against the wall."

"You mean you were intoxicated on marijuana and you got into another fight?"

Lucifer shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his brother's scrutinising gaze.

"...I... I only had a little bit..."

Michael closed his eyes in disappointment. "You always _'only have a little bit'_. And you always come back bloody."

Lucifer was about to argue when Michael held his hand up.

"I don't want to hear any more excuses. I'm tired of you promising that you'll stop doing this and then going back on your word the next time an opportunity arises. Nothing I say seems to discourage you." Suddenly Michael frowned and Dean watched curiously as Sam sunk into his seat.

Michael whirled on the youngest Winchester.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on him?"

"You did," replied Sam, tone steady.

"Then why are his hands bruised?"

"I lost sight of him at approximately twenty-three hundred hours. I think he may have taken a side exit, but I didn't want to leave Gabriel alone in the club."

"So you let him go?"

"No. I lost track of him."

"I'm right here! Don't talk about me as though I don't know what's going on," huffed Lucifer and Michael shot him a deathly glare.

"Quiet, Lucifer. You are in enough trouble as it is."

"Sorry, _mother_ ," muttered the younger brother and Michael narrowed his eyes before turning back to Sam.

"Your job is to make sure _none_ of my family get into trouble, not just one of them, or did you forget?"

Dean scowled. No one had the right to dress down his brother like that (well, no one except him).

"Hold up. We're not your babysitters. You hired us to protect your family from the law and any possible harm," said Dean. "As far as I'm aware, no cops were involved and so what? He got a few bruised knuckles. He's a big boy. We don't need to kiss them better for him. A kid gets a scraped knee; you don't hire bodyguards - you give them a plaster and tell them not to do it again, then you send them on their way."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise at being back-chatted and Dean raised a curious eyebrow when Lucifer blinked at him; a mixture of shock and appreciation clear on his face.

The older Novak turned to Sam, obviously uncertain on how to proceed.

"Just... keep a closer eye on him in future," he managed before walking stiffly out of the room.

Dean shrugged and picked up his coffee, pretending to ignore the way Lucifer stared at him almost in gratitude before returning his attention to his breakfast.

When Dean had downed his drink, he ruffled Sam's hair playfully.

"Stay outta trouble, got it?" He smirked as Sam batted at his hands and Lucifer's eyes widened.

"You're such a jerk."

Dean winked before making his way to Balthazar's room, where he knew the other man to be getting ready for his upcoming interview.

The previous evening had been exhausting. Balthazar had given him the run around, flirting with everything that breathed whilst ordering extravagant cocktails and then moving to the next club to do the same. At one point, Dean had lost sight of him, but he had returned fifteen minutes later with an air of defeat and disappointment, before his smile came back and he moved onto the next club.

When Dean reached the shorter man's door, he was surprised to hear two voices in the room. When Balthazar emerged, the stony face of Castiel was a mere two feet behind him.

The pair paced out of the room without sparing Dean a glance.

"I thought you had an interview," said Dean as he caught up to them.

"We do," replied Balthazar, once again refusing to look at Dean.

" _We?_ I thought it was just for band members?"

"Cassie is family and therefore a very important member of the band. Not to mention he deals with the green stuff."

Ah. So the cocky bassist had brought his adopted brother along because he dealt with the money. That made sense. To think, Dean had actually believed for a second that Balthazar might like someone other than himself and that Castiel might actually have a friend other than his pen.

"I see."

Balthazar frowned at his tone, his expression slightly puzzled, but Dean didn't want to talk any more and Castiel's face had grown even more icy, if that was possible.

When they arrived at the radio station an hour later, Balthazar's face lit up when he spotted a dark-haired girl behind the reception desk. He slipped away to go and talk to her and Dean didn't feel the need to intervene unless the shorter man caused a scene. He still kept an eye on him though.

Unfortunately, it did leave him with the stoic Castiel.

Castiel spotted his cousin flirting with the dark-haired woman and he let out a soft sigh.

For some reason, the noise irritated Dean. At least Balthazar made an effort to talk to people, unlike Castiel, who prefered to stay holed up in his room all year.

"You shouldn't judge him. He likes to socialise; it's not a crime."

Castiel grew thin-lipped. "I am well aware of my family's traits."

Dean snorted. "That's not what the tabloids say." And, okay, maybe that was a little distasteful, but the guy _had_ thrown Dean out of his room after the first five minutes of meeting him.

Castiel rounded on Dean, voice low and eyes hard.

"Your job is to protect my brothers and cousin, not lecture me on my personal life."

Dean didn't like people telling him his job, especially selfish, cold, hardened robots like Castiel.

"I know what my job entails. Maybe if you learned how to socialise like a regular human being, it would make both our jobs easier," growled Dean quietly.

Cas huffed. "I don't need opinionated idiots like you to tell me how to run my life."

"And I don't need secretaries with the emotional capacity of a rock to tell me how to run mine."

Cas narrowed his eyes before turning away and Dean shook his head in exasperation.

A few moments later, Balthazar returned, smile bright and with a skip in his step.

"Balthazar..." Castiel murmured quietly when his cousin was within earshot and the shorter man squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"She's different. I promise."

Dean quirked an eyebrow as Castiel pulled a face. "That's what you said about the last one," he muttered and Balthazar's smile slipped for a second.

"Amelia's different. I'm positive."

Castiel took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "If you say so..."

A moment later, a smarmy-looking man in a cheap suit stepped into the lobby, shark-like smile in place and immediately, Dean couldn't trust him.

The trio met him halfway into the lobby and both Balthazar and Castiel shook his hand, though Dean received an odd look and then got ignored for the entirety of the following conversation.

"Richard Roman at your service. It is a pleasure to have you here."

Balthazar plastered on his signature smirk and Dean thought the pair were well-suited to each other. Castiel, on the other hand, kept his expression neutral and Richard decided to focus on Balthazar.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Balthazar, this here's Castiel and the lap dog behind us is Dean, our personal assistant."

Dean had half a mind to slap the shorter man around the back of the head. He managed to restrain himself. Barely.

"Of course, of course. I know who you two are. Doesn't everybody?" A laugh so fake Dean almost vomited at the sound.

"Are you ready to sell yourself on live radio to thousands of adoring fans?" Chuckled Richard and Balthazar nodded eagerly. "Can't wait. Got a new song coming out this month and we're hoping the fans'll really be able to relate-"

"That's great," interrupted Richard. "Come with me, we go live in twenty minutes and I want to go through a couple of things first."

They started towards the long corridor leading to the radio booth, but when Dean began to follow, Richard turned and put a hand up.

"Sorry. Band members only. You can wait here."

Dean raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I go where they go. That's how it works."

"Not here it doesn't. Wait here."

"No can do, Chuckles."

Richard scowled and looked ready to call security when Balthazar put a hand on his shoulder.

"Just let him watch from the other side of the glass or something. He's paranoid and thinks we're gonna get killed by everyone and everything."

Richard hesitated before finally agreeing. "Alright, but one word from you and you're out on the street," he warned, pointing a threatening finger at Dean. Dean smirked sarcastically.

"Sure."

When the interview finally started, Dean leaned on the back wall, bored out of his mind. He didn't particularly care about what the band called _'music'_ ; no one could beat a good Led Zeppelin album. Besides, all these radio stations did was advertise rubbish to simple-minded people in the loudest and most obnoxious way possible and hope that someone paid them a scrap of attention.

He listened to the conversation idly, not really taking notice of who wrote which lyrics and why the melody was important in building suspense, until a particular comment from Richard sent Dean's head turning.

"Castiel, you're rarely seen with the band these days. In fact, I think this is the first interview you've had in two months, am I correct?"

Castiel nodded warily, uncertainty clear on his face. "Yes."

"I'm going to ask the question everyone's dying to ask: When do you think you'll be over the death of your fiancé? I mean it's been, what? Six months? Don't you think it's time to move on?"

Castiel froze, eyes wide and shocked as Balthazar's jaw dropped. 

"I don't... is that really appropriate?" Balthazar chuckled nervously, gaze darting to his cousin's rapidly stiffening posture.

"It's just a question. Everyone's curious. When's the plucky little adopted brother going to get back to supporting his family?" Grinned Richard and Balthazar frowned, eyes betraying his anger.

"My fiancé was murdered. I apologise if I'm not as cheery as you expect me to be, but I think I have good reason not to be," said Castiel emotionlessly.

"Ooo... I didn't want to believe that your personality had changed as drastically as the rumours make out, but I'm beginning to realise there may be some truth to them after all," smirked Richard and Balthazar's fists clenched, but before he got a chance to wipe the smile off the radio presenter's face (and risk ending his career), Dean stepped into the booth.

"Okay, this interview's over." He strode over to Castiel and Balthazar and dragged them to their feet.

"Woah, woah, woah. Hang on a minute. Your amazing fans are expecting an answer!" Richard glared heatedly at Dean and the elder Winchester took satisfaction in knowing that he'd ruined the presenter's slot.

"Well tell them the bodyguard needs some lunch and they're gonna have to wait."

He tugged the two men towards the door and Richard did a good impression of a fish.

"Now wait just a minute-"

"Sorry, my stomach can't wait. Come on, guys; I saw a popular diner across the road that looks right up my alley."

Richard shouted at them as they left, but the words were lost when the door shut behind them and Dean didn't stop until they were outside the building.

He turned to find Castiel and Balthazar staring at him, the latter wearing a small, grateful smile and the former with his gaze lowered so Dean couldn't read his expression.

"Thanks, Dean," said Balthazar softly and Dean offered a tiny smile in return, before glancing at Castiel.

"Don't mention it. The dude was a creep and a jerk." There was an awkward pause as the trio realised that this was the closest they'd got to having an amiable conversation.

"Anyway, there really is a diner that caught my eye on the way here and I've not eaten in four hours. Wanna catch a bite?" He asked gruffly and Balthazar and Castiel seemed appreciative for the change in subject.

"Whatever. I wouldn't mind some pancakes," smirked Balthazar as he led the way.

 

* * *

 

Dean and Sam couldn't help but startle at Abaddon's dramatic entrance.

"What is this?!" She screeched as she waved a few pieces of paper around her head erratically.

"A sound that only dogs can hear?" Drawled Lucifer as he rubbed his ear pointedly.

Abaddon snarled at him before throwing the paper on Michael's temporary desk.

"I heard you advertising that pathetic excuse for a song on Roman Radio yesterday. I want to know just what you think you're playing at!"

"We're a band. We produce music. In case you haven't noticed, darling, _that's what bands do_ ," said Balthazar slowly, as if he was conversing with a toddler.

Abaddon growled.

"It won't make money."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And?! In case you've not figured it out, Shortstack, we need money to live. That's how you buy food and clothes and other essentials. Or do you just live off whatever scraps you can find in the dump?"

Gabriel snorted and continued sucking on his recently acquired lollipop.

"What Gabriel means is: we write songs that mean something to us. None of that _'Anaconda'_ rubbish," said Balthazar.

"It's not catchy; it won't sell," insisted Abaddon before rounding on Michael. "You're the manager; tell them it won't sell."

Michael glanced up at her wearily. "I refuse to interfere with the music itself. I'll deal with the issues surrounding producing the song and the difficulties in organising a tour in which to play the song, but the actual notes are yours and the rest of the band's responsibility."

Abaddon's heated gaze was enough to make even the toughest of guard dogs quiver, but Michael didn't back down.

"If you have a problem, take it up with your band mates," he said, ignoring Abaddon's whitening knuckles.

She snarled at her co-workers.

"You're all naive, dim-witted fools. Get back to me when you're ready to grow up."

"Go suck your thumb in the corner, love," sighed Balthazar, disinterestedly and Abaddon's eyes widened in fury before she stormed out.

Dean whistled lowly, so only his brother could hear.

"Someone needs their Snickers."

Sam chuckled quietly. "I think she's like that regularly. At least, the others don't seem bothered by it."

"I wouldn't like to put up with her seven days a week."

"And you wanted to sleep with her."

"I've changed my mind."

Gabriel's chipper voice snapped them back to attention. "Something tells me Abaddon doesn't approve of us releasing the new track."

Michael smiled a barely-there smile as Lucifer snorted.

"Tell me something new," the second oldest brother huffed. 

"When does Abaddon approve of anything we do?" Agreed Balthazar and even Raphael chuckled at that.

Castiel, as ever, remained quiet.

"Thanks for sticking up for us, bro," grinned Gabriel as he glanced at Michael and the eldest brother nodded in acknowledgement.

"Although you infuriate me at times, you know I will always support whatever you have in mind for your music."

Gabriel and Lucifer beamed as the corner of Balthazar's lips quirked upwards.

Sam and Dean both lifted an eyebrow. So far, that was the closest they'd seen to family bonding. Maybe the family did have an ounce of respect for one another...

"That being said, I do expect you to behave at your concert," said Michael sternly as Gabriel offered him a cheeky grin, thereby shattering the moment.

"A week is a long time. We can't make any promises, brother," smirked Lucifer and Michael pulled a long-suffering face.

"I can see I'm going to have a migraine by the end of this week," sighed Michael before shuffling some papers regarding the release of a new song. 

"Lets get to the business of why I brought you all here, shall we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh! Longer chapter. What do you think? Improvements? Criticisms? Anything you liked? Keep me updated; don't forget, I am still in the process of writing and I value what you think!


	4. Revelations

The night before the concert saw Balthazar, Gabriel and Lucifer at the centre of a throng of adoring fans, a headache-inducing bass beat pouring through crackling speakers as a round of colourful cocktails was handed out (paid for by the three band members, of course).

Stalking the outskirts of this crowd was Sam, dressed in a dark, business-like suit and face emotionless as he identified every hazard in the room and took note of the various mental states of the fans and the band.

He eyed the five bartenders, paying careful attention to how they mixed the drinks and making sure no suspicious substances entered the concoctions.

Sam stood a little straighter when a particularly inebriated blonde-haired woman with a skimpy outfit draped herself across Gabriel's shoulder and leaned over at a rather suggestive angle and gave all of the crowd a fantastic view of her oversized breasts.

Gabriel chuckled and wrapped a supportive arm around her and she quickly took advantage of the position by slapping a messy kiss on his cheek. Ever the showman, Gabriel laughed, voice bright as he dipped her and kissed her full on the lips.

Sam began to wonder if he should intervene, but Gabriel gently guided the girl back to her friends, blowing her a kiss on her way and grinned when she attempted to mirror his movements, but only succeeded in smearing her lipstick over her face.

Relaxing back into sentry duty, Sam turned his attention to Balthazar, who was chatting animatedly with a small group of people who looked more interested in his body than what he was actually talking about, before glancing to Lucifer.

Who wasn't there.

Sam surveyed the tacky club, from the cheap dance floor to the battered tables and back, before frowning at the realisation that Lucifer had, once again, escaped his watchful gaze.

A few minutes later, there was a slight lull in fans swooping down on the band and Sam slipped his way to Balthazar's side.

"Where's Lucifer?" He asked lowly and Balthazar snorted as he swirled his cocktail.

"Why are you asking me? Isn't that your job?"

Sam frowned. "Where is he, Balthazar?"

Balthazar shrugged indifferently. "Doped up in some back alley? I don't know."

The younger Winchester scowled then and was about to take Balthazar to one side when Gabriel stepped in.

"You look like someone just killed your puppy, Samsquatch. You're scaring the fans away."

"Where's your brother?" Sam asked instead of gracing Gabriel's comment with a response.

"Shooting up?" The guitarist suggested and Sam scowled.

"And you didn't think to stop him? Your own brother? You just let him disappear without asking what it was he was doing?"

Gabriel raised a condescending eyebrow.

"Last I checked, kiddo, that was _your_ job. Protecting us from harm, right?"

Sam narrowed his gaze, though his tone remained cool.

"My job would be made a lot easier if you didn't think my presence was an excuse to behave in a way that puts you and your family at risk."

Gabriel smirked. "Who said we wanted to make your job easy?"

"It's not about my job; it's about your safety. Now, can you please tell me where your brother has gone?"

Balthazar chuckled with a shake of his head as he nodded towards a darkened emergency exit in the far corner of the room.

"He disappeared with his buddy through there. Think I saw a bag of white powder in the guy's back pocket. Better not go after him; his friends are good with pocket knives, so I suggest leaving them until they're done. It's not like you'll find them anyway. They're used to hiding in the shadows."

Sam scowled and turned to make his way towards the door. He paused for a second when he heard Gabriel's amused snort and the careless comment he threw over his shoulder.

"Some bodyguard you are."

Sam almost replied to that, but he restrained himself and marched towards the side exit and swung the door open.

Only to find a dark alleyway.

He explored the alley for twenty minutes before giving up. Wherever Lucifer had gone, he'd made sure to leave no traces of his whereabouts. Or at least his friends had.

He entered the club to find Balthazar slumped over the bar, relaxed and immersed in conversation with a new group of people, empty glasses spread along the length of the bar.

Sam hoped that not all of them belonged to the bassist.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Sam rubbed at the bridge of his nose, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he did so. Why did he pursue this career choice again?

Still, he didn't search for Gabriel as he already had a good idea as to where he'd be, so he sat a little way away from Balthazar, making sure no one slipped anything into the bassist's drinks whilst he was already tipsy.

Four hours later, when the club had emptied (bar a few passed-out young adults at the back of the building), Gabriel re-emerged.

He staggered out of the restroom, shirt ripped, hair tussled and wearing socks that definitely didn't belong to him. Two tall, good-looking men followed him out, in no better state than Gabriel, but each wore self-satisfied smirks as they glanced at each other and back to the guitarist.

Gabriel made his way over to the bar, taking the stool next to Sam's with a grin.

As he sat, the two men grabbed Gabriel by the collar and forced him into a possessive kiss, each slipping a hand into his pants and squeezing at whatever they could find.

After fifteen seconds, Sam shifted uncomfortably and the shorter of the two men glanced at him with a wolfish grin and a wink, before they walked away, leaving Gabriel to right himself into a more presentable state.

Sam watched Gabriel with unimpressed eyes and the guitarist offered him a sidelong glance.

"What?"

Sam huffed. "You just love to be in the spotlight, don't you?"

Gabriel smirked at him, but there was an edge to it; a challenge in his eyes.

"Yet you still can't keep track of me." As an afterthought, he added, "Find Lucifer yet?"

Sam's mouth tightened into a thin line and Gabriel chuckled humorously.

"Thought not."

He glanced past Sam and at his cousin, who was sagged over the bar, snoring lightly with an empty margarita glass still in hand. 

"He's gonna regret that tomorrow," muttered Gabriel quietly before ordering his own pint of beer, to which the last remaining bartender glared at him through exhausted eyes. Gabriel slipped a fifty onto the bar and the bartender begrudgingly poured the drink.

Ten minutes later, Lucifer stumbled through the side exit, eyes bloodshot and hands shaking, but he grinned when he spotted Sam, Gabriel and Balthazar.

As he got closer, Sam couldn't help but turn his nose up at the odd smells emanating from him and the way his fingernails seemed slightly off-colour.

Gabriel also turned his nose up, but he once again, came to stand at his brother's side and gently grabbed his arm to lead him from the club, tapping Balthazar's shoulder on the way.

The bassist blinked awake blearily and gargled something incoherent before he finally realised what was going on and he got to his feet unsteadily.

The third time he swayed, Sam rolled his eyes and non-too-gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders to support him.

Balthazar whined lightly in protest before admitting that he needed the help and allowed Sam to drag him out.

A few minutes later, Lucifer threw up down a grid.

Sam made a noise of disgust as Gabriel patted his brother's back and suddenly, the shorter man whirled on Sam, anger clear on his face.

"You got something to say, kid?"

The younger Winchester's eyebrows rocketed skywards. 

"I didn't say anything," he replied calmly and Gabriel seethed.

"Don't play innocent! You have done nothing but disapprove of everything we've done all evening, and I'm sick of it. We didn't ask you to follow us tonight, so stop acting as though you're disappointed in us; we didn't even want you here!"

Sam scowled. What didn't Gabriel understand about Sam's job title? _'Bodyguard'_ was pretty self-explanatory, wasn't it?

"You're right," replied Sam, Gabriel's attitude beginning to grate on his nerves. "I _don't_ approve of anything you've done tonight. If I did, I wouldn't be here. Your brother wouldn't have asked me to babysit you."

A soft growl escaped Gabriel's throat as Lucifer muttered something in protest.

"We are three fully-grown adults. We don't need you to mother us, nor do we need Michael to take care of us. So why don't you just back off?" Hissed Gabriel and Sam's patience with the band was worn to its limit.

" _Adults?_ You don't know the meaning of the word. Not only are you irresponsible and childish, your carelessness for your own lives leaves much to be desired." He glanced pointedly at Balthazar and Lucifer before looking back to Gabriel and raking his eyes over his rumpled outfit.

"And you just have no shame."

Gabriel's eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth to argue when Lucifer stepped in, still a little groggy from the feeling of bile rising up his throat.

"Hey! You 'ave no right t' judge us; don' even know us." He staggered slightly before vomiting once more into the grid. 

Gabriel cast a worried glance at him before turning back to Sam, furious at the fact that the bodyguard was shaking his head in disgust.

"Don't you dare pretend to think you know us! You don't know what we've been through; don't know anything about our lives! You think your long, formal, black and white reports tell you who we are? You're wrong. You don't have a clue. We're just a job to you; you don't care about us. Well you know what, Sam? We care about each other; we care about our family and we don't want stuck-up, know-it-all suits like you to butt their heads into our business! So you can keep your condescending comments and those drawn-out sighs to yourself. You don't mean a thing to us!"

At the end of the rant, Gabriel grabbed an almost passed-out Balthazar from Sam's hold, hoisted Lucifer into an upright position and carried on down the street to the hotel with as much dignity as he could muster with two intoxicated men either side of him.

Sam snorted. He'd heard of rockstars throwing temper tantrums and being divas when off-stage and he supposed this family were no better.

Well, if they were intent on making it clear that Sam wasn't liked, then Sam didn't see a reason to be kind to them, so he let Gabriel struggle with the taller men as they entered the hotel, not once offering his assistance.

He watched them enter their rooms, but did not offer to help them when they stumbled and quickly made his way into his own room, where his brother nodded in greeting and continued cleaning his gun.

Sam rolled the tension out of his shoulders and slumped into bed.

 

* * *

 

Dean had spent a little over a week in the company of the members of _'The Archs'_ and already he knew that one day, he would have to dump Castiel's cold, grey body into a damp ditch in some field.

The finance manager was downright rude to anyone he met and the coldness in his eyes made people look away in fear of feeling a chill run up their spines. His replies were curt and blunt, making the atmosphere awkward for anyone who conversed with him (and there were few a far between) and his abruptness often left people feeling unwelcome or dismissed.

Dean included.

Not that he had any doubts of his presence being explicitly unwanted, but it would be nice to be able to ask Castiel important questions without the other man answering monosyllabically, or not at all.

"So, you going to the gig or are you thinking of holing yourself up in here again?" Asked Dean disinterestedly. If the shorter man preferred to stay in his hotel room, it would make Dean's job easier. It would be one less person to keep an eye on at the concert.

Castiel glanced up at him once, eyes cold and hard before the sound of a pen scratching at paper could be heard once more. 

Dean shrugged. He didn't need to worry about looking after Castiel then.

Still, after the way the finance manager had treated him, he couldn't help but try to garner a reaction from him.

"Don't your brothers care that you never support them?"

There was no response, so Dean tried again.

"I mean, aren't all brothers supposed to take an interest in each other's businesses? Isn't that what family does? Support each other through the good and the bad?"

This time, Castiel closed his eyes in irritation at being disturbed once again, but he didn't say anything and the writing continued.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Obviously, you don't care. I've heard the rumours; everyone has, but I didn't think they were true. How can anyone be so ungrateful to the people who took them in as family?"

That got Castiel's attention and his icy gaze snapped up to Dean's bored face.

"Do not pretend to know me, Mr. Winchester. My relationship with my family is my business, not yours. If you choose to listen to propaganda and the like, then that is your decision, but do not assume you know what is best for me or my brothers."

Dean cocked an eyebrow.

"If what I listen to is only propaganda, then what's the truth?"

Castiel snapped his mouth shut and returned to his paperwork.

"That is none of your business."

Dean frowned. "It kinda is, considering I'm supposed to muster up the will to protect you guys. Why should I risk my life for someone who cares little about anything other than his work? So far, I've seen nothing that even implies you care for your family."

Dean admitted he was a little surprised at the following soft growl, but he didn't let it show.

"I worry for them, but they don't seem to take any notice. Not that you are entitled to know about our relationship."

"It would be nice to know who I'm working with."

Finally, Castiel huffed and glanced up at him.

"The people who pay you. Isn't that enough?"

Dean was about to argue when Castiel got to his feet and paced to the door.

"I think it's time for you to leave." He swung the door open and his expression left no room for arguments, so Dean shrugged and did as asked. 

It's not like Castiel was good company anyway.

 

* * *

 

The stage was set, the adoring fans chatting excitedly in front of it and the tech guys were rushing around behind the scenes trying to work out the correct settings for lighting and mic reverb. 

Sam and Dean stood either side of the stage, earpieces in place and small handguns buried deep in their pockets as they assessed the audience and their surroundings.

The crowd was mostly young adults with a few teenagers added to the mix and the Winchesters couldn't help but be a little impressed with the sheer size of the audience; there must have been at least a thousand people - a good turnout for a band the Winchester brothers had barely even heard of.

"Did Castiel show up?"

Dean heard the tinny voice of his brother through the earpiece and he lifted a hand to the tiny button on the main body of the device.

"Nah. Guy's probably sat in the dark, gettin' off to a mountain of paperwork."

"Heard you got thrown out of his lair."

"Technically I left of my own accord."

"He opened the door and kicked you out, you mean."

"Like the way you got your butt handed to you by Shortstack and the drunken duo?"

"...Shut up. And Lucifer was high, not drunk."

A hush fell over the crowd and the Winchester brothers immediately stood to attention as the stage lights dimmed and the fog machine whirred to life.

The audience suddenly erupted into a myriad of cheering and applause as _'The Archs'_ shifted into position, making themselves comfortable with their instruments.

Lucifer grinned lazily and winked at the crowd, sending a few girls at the front screaming enthusiastically and Sam and Dean rolled their eyes as the first few guitar chords tumbled from the amplifiers.

The Winchesters weren't expecting much out of the actual music (nor were they expecting much maturity out of the fans), which is why they were surprised when they both found themselves tapping a foot to the beat.

The bass was rich and mellow and Balthazar ran his fingers over the strings with a smoothness that was rare to find in most modern-day pop groups. 

Sam glanced to the stage and raised an eyebrow at the way Gabriel had closed his eyes, probably too immersed in the music to notice the screeching audience and Sam couldn't help but be impressed at the agility and confidence of Gabriel's fingers as they danced over each perfectly tuned string. 

This wasn't a college kid who had decided to strum a few simple chords on the nearest guitar and had proclaimed himself a rockstar whilst singing _'Camptown Races'_ at the local pub; this man was a musician - he had practiced day in and day out, working his fingers to the bone to get where he was today. He wouldn't have that precision if he hadn't.

And Lucifer... where did that voice come from? The power with which he sung was amazing, yet it seemed as though the vocalist wasn't even putting any effort into it; almost as if he didn't realise the range he possessed.

It was clear why Abaddon hadn't been kicked out of the band; she was a fantastic drummer and not a hair fell out of place as she hammered out the rhythm.

The music catered to many tastes; ballads, blues, rock and even new-age melodies littered the line-up, meaning every member of the audience had at least one song suited to their tastes.

It was oddly refreshing to hear a group that didn't focus on only one style and when the concert ended a couple of hours later and the band took a final bow, voices hoarse and hair plastered to their faces with sweat (with the exception of Abaddon, who still looked as though she'd just come out of a salon), the Winchesters actually felt rather disappointed.

So did the audience and the band was called back on stage for another song (one that reminded Dean of a Bon Jovi hit) before they retreated for the green room for a drink and a snack.

The crowd filed out as the stage lights shut off and the dull regular lighting flickered to life, illuminating a sticky floor and chocolate-covered seats.

Dean and Sam watched the last of the audience disappear and the doors slam shut before the cleaners entered with bored or irritated expressions and headphones wedged into their ears. 

Dean joined his brother on the other side of the stage and raised both eyebrows knowingly, to which Sam smiled in equal surprise.

"Not half bad, huh?" Dean hummed as Sam shook his head.

Raphael quietly made his way over to a few technical-looking consoles behind them and began to fiddle with a few settings before switching them off and packing them up.

The brothers watched him idly as they continued chatting.

"Good writers and even better players. They take to the stage like ducks to water," murmured Sam and Dean nodded.

"Too bad their attitudes off-stage leave so much to be desired."

Sam hummed in agreement. "Pity really. They could have so much more respect by a larger demographic if only they started acting like responsible adults, rather than bratty teens."

"Or maybe the press could stop making them out to be the villains?"

Sam and Dean blinked at the quiet voice and they turned to see Raphael watching them as he wrapped up a long, thick cable.

They expected him to be offended by the fact that the Winchesters had (sort-of) bad-mouthed his family, but the other man seemed to be half-smiling at them, as if he was amused at their thoughts.

What was it about this family not defending each other?

"What's that?" Asked Dean with a frown and Raphael chuckled softly as he began coiling the next cable.

"The press haven't been the kindest to this family. Their tales often land my brothers and cousin under much unneeded scrutiny and it isn't always so easy to brush off as a mistake. Bad publicity can leave an irreparable stain on both a career and a person's self-confidence."

Dean and Sam shared a look.

"You saying that your family has been wrongly accused?" Asked Dean.

Raphael shook his head with a small grin.

"Hasn't every band?"

"You can't deny that they aren't the easiest people to work with off stage though. They don't exactly help themselves when they act so wild in public," commented Sam and Raphael hummed in agreement.

"They certainly have their days. Still, the way they've been treated in the past certainly doesn't help their self-esteem."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You mean by the press?"

A troubled expression crossed Raphael's face before he turned away to reset another console.

"I mean by the people closest to them." He hesitated, as if wondering if he should divulge any more information and Dean and Sam glanced at each other in confusion before Raphael finally came to a conclusion.

"Take Lucifer. He didn't want to be treated like a high and mighty celebrity; he wanted to be able to talk to someone without them screaming his name or fainting every time they saw him - after all, he worked hard to write music, just like everybody else worked hard in their own careers. He became friends with a group of people who told him they would treat him like any other person and he quickly became a part of their group. Then they introduced him to drugs.

"At first he told them he didn't want to get into that business, but then they started saying that he thought he was _'too good for them'_ and _'if he wanted to be treated the same as everyone else, then he should learn to act like them'_. 

"They ridiculed him, mocked him, pressured him into following their example and eventually he gave in. Then they started doing other things; drinking, fighting, gambling illegally, even stealing the odd thing that caught their eye and unfortunately, Lucifer got dragged into it all because he thought that's how he would get accepted. He did, but not because his so-called _'friends'_ actually cared about him.

"Then there's Gabriel. Put a lot of effort into rehearsals and compositions and never really told anyone about his passion and the work he'd put into his music. Then a young lady, Kali was her name, took an interest in him. Seemed awed by the sweat he'd put into writing and playing and Gabriel was enamoured by her. Someone had recognised his love for music and knew how difficult it was to pour your heart into something and try to get others to see how you felt. 

"Gabriel idolised her. Put her on a pedestal and treated her like a Queen. It didn't matter what anyone else thought or said; he loved this woman and he would do anything for her.

"He proposed after two years, she said yes and they had the flashiest wedding you could ever imagine, all because Kali had high expectations and expensive tastes. Gabriel didn't care though; nothing was too good for his soon-to-be wife.

"Then, one day a little over a year later, Gabriel's world crumbled. Kali waltzed into a rehearsal with another man behind her and asked Gabe for a divorce.

"My brother was heart-broken. Kali took half of his earnings and the icing on the top was that Kali had been having an affair with Odin, a highly-respected fashion designer, for two years and they were planning on get married in the very same year. The ceremony was televised and I think something snapped inside my brother.

"He flirts endlessly, has as many one-night stands as he possibly can, yet has a phobia of commitment. He's frightened of being used again for his money, so he doesn't let anyone get close to him. He thinks everyone already looks at him with pity; believes he lost respect from the public all those years ago so he's got nothing else to lose. He might as well let people have the chance at boasting that they got to sleep with the infamous Gabriel Novak; at least he can please his fans in some way, even if they no longer respect him or his work."

Raphael sighed quietly, a hint of sadness in the sound and Sam's and Dean's view of the family may have altered a little at that long explanation.

Neither Winchester knew how to respond to that and Raphael seemed to understand because he nodded politely at them before hoisting his cables over his shoulder and retreated back to wherever he and his techie friends hovered whenever they had to de-rig.

"...I kinda feel like a bit of a jerk now," murmured Sam embarrassedly and Dean pulled a face.

"Ditto."

"Guess we should keep a closer eye on them?"

Dean hummed in agreement. "It wouldn't hurt to cut them a bit of slack I suppose... but that isn't an excuse for them to treat us like dirt."

"Of course not. They can't just push us around, however they feel. We still have a job to do."

"'Course we do. We keep protecting them until we're not needed anymore, right?"

"Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh! Finally got this one out! Hope you enjoyed and if you have any story requests (I'll do anything except Wincest) feel free to ask!


	5. Hints and Tips

The Winchesters stuck to their words and observed the band members more closely after that night. They paid more attention to the way the crease between Michael's brows became a little more pronounced every time his brothers and cousin staggered into a hotel in the early hours of the morning. 

They noticed how often Balthazar was flirted with and how he would, without fail, turn every single offer of sexual intimacy down. They realised he had a girlfriend he was staying faithful to and they spotted the way his smile would widen just a little bit more every time she walked through the door.

They watched as Amelia, said girlfriend, wouldn't keep eye contact with him whenever they spoke. They knew Balthazar hadn't noticed.

They saw how Raphael was the one who everyone went to when they had something on their minds, and they noticed the patience and softness of Raphael's tone whenever he tried to help his family through their concerns.

They could see the past in Lucifer and Gabriel's eyes, how it was hurting them and how they'd lost the willpower to pick themselves up again.

Castiel's soft sighs and the lines in his face gave way to his exhaustion and constant worry about his family. Sometimes, the Winchesters could hear him whispering defeated words to his deceased girlfriend and the hopelessness in his voice was enough to make even the cruelest of people feel some form of sympathy.

They noticed all these things over the following couple of months and their opinions on the family began to twist and bend and break until their original thoughts seemed to be describing a completely different group of people.

One evening, when the band was staying at a hotel in Chicago, Sam accompanied Gabriel and Lucifer to a local nightlife hotspot.

He said his regular spiel, about not drinking excessively and not following any suspicious characters into darkened places and not just jumping into bed with the first person who demanded it. He knew he'd be ignored, but he said it anyway and made sure to scope the place out beforehand and had removed any possibly hazardous objects from view of the intoxicated patrons.

He knew Lucifer's _'friends'_ followed the band to each city and he had no doubt that they were lurking just outside the fire exit, waiting impatiently for the singer to join them. 

Sam nodded at the pair and sat at the bar, keeping out of the way as he had learned to do, but watched the crowds to make sure nothing untoward happened to them.

Immediately, Lucifer slipped out of the fire exit as Gabriel mingled with a group of barely-clothed people on the dance floor, their eyes lighting up hungrily as they spotted him.

Sam lingered for about ten seconds, watching them try to make a move on the guitarist, before his long legs were carrying him through the fire exit at a quick, regular tempo.

He spotted Lucifer and his gang round a darkened corner and he silently followed them, keeping out of sight as he trailed their confident strides.

He had never seen what the singer got up to; he had his suspicions, but he'd never actually managed to find them whenever he went outside. This time, he'd been quick and he kept the gang in view at all times, hoping to see just how they treated Lucifer.

It was another ten minutes before the group finally halted on some unmarked land. The site looked like it had once been home to a large warehouse, but the high amount of rubble and litter suggested that the building had been demolished (or possibly burned down) and nobody had been interested in buying the land. 

The group settled themselves in the rubble, making sure nobody would be able to spot them from the nearby, rarely-used road and Sam hid himself behind a questionable-looking Indian takeaway.

He quieted his breathing and strained to hear what was being said.

"So, Luci, we've been thinking," began a nasally voice, tone condescending. "With those two bodyguards of yours, you haven't really been in the spotlight all that much. This would be the perfect opportunity for you to go down to Tiffany's to get Lilith that pretty, little necklace she's been eying."

There was a pause before Lucifer's uncertain voice replied.

"You mean _steal_ one-hundred thousand dollars worth of jewellery?"

"Unless you want to buy it for her? You can afford it, right?"

Another voice joined the first, this one dripping with sarcasm.

"Of course he can. He's a wealthy rockstar with more money than sense. Too good for the likes of us."

There was a round of laughter as Lucifer tried to protest.

"That's not true! Besides, my brother would never let me take that much money out in one go; he'd think I'm using it for drugs or something... I just don't understand why we have to steal it. Lilith, I thought you said that pendant was too chunky for your tastes?"

A more feminine voice joined the mix, sugary sweet and if Sam wasn't mistaken, more cunning than the first two.

"We steal because we can't afford it, Luci. If we had the money, we'd still be willing customers, but they turn us away because of the clothes we wear and how we live. That's called prejudice."

"...I don't think-"

"Look at it this way: if we couldn't afford bread or any other food, should we just starve to death, or should we steal what little we need and keep going for another week?"

"...Steal?"

"Exactly! It's only a few cents to a shop keeper at the end of the day; it won't make a difference to his profits. A hundred grand to these multi-billionaire jewellers is like pocket change."

There was a silence as Lucifer thought it over, during which time Sam almost begged him to see that he was being played. 

Unfortunately, the singer didn't notice and he nodded hesitantly.

"Okay...I'll... I'll see what I can do." Then there was another pause. "Why can't you take it, why's it have to be me?"

The first voice let out a bone-deep sigh.

"Luci, they know our faces from the last time we got caught. Every jewellers in America probably has our pictures by now. But you chickened out last time, remember? Your mugshot won't be up there."

"They'll still recognise me; I am part of a band."

"Don't we know it?" Huffed the second voice in irritation and Lucifer ducked his head.

"But they won't expect theft out of you; not as much as they would out of us."

Lilith leaned over to squeeze the vocalist's shoulder, eyes friendly.

"Just have a go. If you fail, what difference does it make? We're not going to hold it against you."

 _'No, but the cops might,'_ thought Sam with a scowl as Lucifer seemed to mull it over.

"Alright," he said finally and Lilith grinned and pecked him on the cheek.

"Your best shot is to go early in the morning when barely anyone's about. That way you don't have to set the alarms off by breaking in. Just walk in, snatch the pendant and go," said the first voice and Lucifer nodded.

"Okay."

Sam shook his head. Not if he could help it. Lucifer had to learn that these people were using him and then mocking him when his conscience said _'no'_.

He spied on the small group for another thirty minutes before coming to the conclusion that they were just smoking a mixture of suspicious powders (as usual) and that he should probably get back to Gabriel and wait for Lucifer to stumble back into the club.

He quietly made his way back.

When he stepped into the club, he noticed the group that had been surrounding Gabriel earlier was nowhere to be seen and neither was the guitarist.

When he walked past a supposedly empty back room and heard a moan, unmistakable in its nature, Sam decided he knew where everyone was and he sat at the bar, trying to ignore the headache beginning to make itself known.

Three hours later, when the music had stopped and the clients had left, Gabriel and his entourage stepped out into the main body of the club. Sam's cheeks turned pink at some of the states various people were in and he counted an impressive twelve people, not including Gabriel, walk through the door.

Ten of those people purred their thanks to Gabriel before leaving the club entirely, but two of them (a man and a woman) leaned in for another suggestive make-out session and it was only when Gabriel pulled away after a few moments, tired, but smiling, did the couple turn and leave. That was when Sam noticed the matching wedding rings. He shook his head.

Gabriel slumped into the seat beside Sam's and ordered a pint, slipping another fifty onto the bar.

Sam cast a sidelong glance at the guitarist and noticed how dull his eyes were; as if he hadn't really enjoyed his three hours in the back room and had just gone along with everybody else.

He noticed the slight frown to his mouth; a troubled expression, almost regretful as he stared forlornly into his drink.

The guitarist was quiet, not at all like his usual charismatic self and every so often he'd glance back at the door he'd just come through and turn away, eyes closed for the briefest of moments.

"It's rude to stare," muttered Gabriel and Sam blinked at being caught. Say what you would about the guitarist; he was very observant.

"If you don't like it, why do it?" Sam asked softly and Gabriel didn't even pretend to not know what he was talking about.

"Why do you care?"

A silence fell between them and it was only a few minutes later when Sam stared at the far wall of the club, did it break.

"Maybe I want to understand."

Gabriel paused, eyes falling to Sam's profile, curious yet suspicious.

"Who says I don't like it? Maybe I enjoy having orgies every weekend."

Sam smiled sadly, gaze finally catching Gabriel's and the guitarist actually looked shocked. His eyes widened before he turned sharply back to his pint.

Whatever he'd read in Sam's expression, it had taken him off-guard and Sam wondered if Gabriel would open up to him a little more now he'd shown he wasn't all business-focused and strict rules.

Gabriel stared unseeingly into his pint; similar to how an alcoholic might when they'd had too much, but Sam knew that the other man's brain was racing a mile a minute.

"Maybe that's all I'm good for," he whispered and Sam turned to face him at the broken tone.

"Or you've degraded yourself so much that you've started to believe your own words."

Gabriel blinked and slowly glanced back at Sam, as if seeing a side of him he'd never thought existed.

"Why are you even interested? I thought we were just a job to you?"

Sam shook his head. Didn't Gabriel understand that he'd only shown distaste for the band because he'd thought they were immature and reckless? He still thought them reckless, but with their respective pasts, he could somewhat understand their life choices. It was clear the family cared for one another, they just needed a little bit of guidance; the same as he and Dean had when they were younger.

Maybe if the family opened up to Dean and him, they would be able to help. It wouldn't hurt to offer; they were supposed to be with the band for a year - it would be nice to part as friends. 

Sam opened his mouth to explain when there was a bang as the fire exit door flew open and Lucifer tripped over the threshold.

Gabriel's attention was lost and he stood to assist his brother.

Sam pulled a face at Lucifer's bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, but just as Gabriel was about to round on him, eyes fiery and temper flared, the younger Winchester moved to support the shaking vocalist.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow but Sam shrugged and hoisted the singer into a more upright and dignified position.

Lucifer seemed confused as he looked between Sam and Gabriel, but he quickly came to accept the change of plans, even nodding when Sam murmured into his ear.

"Give me a heads up if you feel sick."

Gabriel's other eyebrow joined the first and they quietly made their way out of the club.

Lucifer did give Sam a warning, but it was unintentional as Sam heard the other man gulping profusely and quickly aimed his face at a nearby drain, supporting him as best he could.

When they made it back to the hotel, Sam stopped outside the brothers' door to make sure they got in safely and just before the door clicked shut, Gabriel popped his head around it.

"Thank you," he said softly and Sam offered him a small smile.

"If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Gabriel blinked before a hesitant smile slipped across his face; the first genuine expression of affection for Sam since they'd been acquainted.

"I'll... keep that in mind, Sam. Thank you."

Then they parted ways.

 

* * *

 

Dean growled. Castiel Novak was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"Maybe if you weren't so cold, you'd actually have a life outside these four walls!"

"Maybe if you weren't so obnoxious, I'd take your opinions into consideration," replied Castiel immediately, eyes not once leaving the ever-present mountain of paperwork piled high on his desk.

The argument had started because of Dean's inability to understand why the other man preferred to lock himself in his room with no other company than the lice in the carpets, when his family had their own social circles and went out regularly, whether it was just for a catch-up (Michael and Raphael) or a more party-like atmosphere (Lucifer, Gabriel and Balthazar).

He just couldn't grasp the idea of Castiel wanting to be alone all the time when there was so much more he could do with his life. After all, the man wasn't getting any younger.

Why would you choose to sit in a room all by yourself when you were that good-looking (Dean might not have liked the finance manager all that much, but he wasn't blind) and had enough money to do as you liked? The world was his oyster!

Yet, here he was, day in and day out, scratching a pen over papers written in such fine print, it was a wonder that Castiel didn't need a magnifying glass. 

"You're wasting your life in here!" Argued Dean. "Don't you want your existence to be something meaningful and worthwhile?"

Castiel glanced up sharply. "Why are you so insistent on forcing me to socialise? I thought you hated me?"

Dean snorted but chose to ignore that last part. He still got paid by the guy and he wasn't about to lose money over a silly argument.

"Because in case you haven't noticed, you don't have any friends! The only people you socialise with are your family and even they go out when they want a little fun. You just stay locked up in whatever hotel you're staying at."

"And why does that bother you? Why is that any of your business?"

Dean shrugged, though his tone was harsh. "It's not. But it ain't healthy. I'm supposed to protect you from crazy fans and other psychos and I'm meant to stop you butting heads with the police, but there's no point in me doing that if you have a mental breakdown because you're so lonely and depressed, you feel like slitting your throat."

Castiel pulled a face and sighed exasperatedly, before looking back to his paperwork.

To be honest, Dean wasn't entirely sure why Castiel's non-existent social life bothered him, but it irked him that someone could choose to be so isolated when they had everything going for them.

" _Everything going for me?_ " Hissed Castiel and Dean hadn't realised he'd said all of that out loud. Still, at least he was getting some form of emotion out of the finance manager.

"You think I have everything going for me?" Demanded Castiel, muscles tense and pen forgotten. "I don't even know the identity of my biological parents, my adoptive parents treat me like vermin, my family aren't always mentally stable and I lost my fiancé to a bullet a few months ago. Now you tell me, do you think I have _'everything going for me'_?"

Dean snapped his mouth shut, shocked by the sudden and uncharacteristic outburst. 

And what was that about his parents?

"I didn't-"

"You didn't know? Or you didn't think?" Interrupted Castiel, tone biting. "That's the problem with people like you. You think your formal reports tell you everything about a person and then you watch the press butcher people's reputations and base your judgements around what they say. You think that your training puts you above everyone else; that you're the only one who sees people for who they really are. Well you're wrong. You probably know less than our 'crazy fans'."

And hold up; where did that come from?

Dean gaped at the finance manager, before his words finally caught up and anger started to bubble low in his gut.

"Hold on a minute. I never said I was better than anyone else. And all that about listening to the press? You have no idea who I've worked for in the past. Some of these people you wouldn't have even heard of because me and my brother were so good at keeping them off the radar and you know what? We actually cared for these guys. They became good friends and some of them still keep in touch with us. 

"I base my judgements of people on how they act and how they treat others. I don't care about their little sob stories and excuses. I may still do my job and defend them when necessary, but I don't respect them until they earn it." He narrowed a glare at Castiel, who refused to back down.

The other man growled quietly.

"I don't care whether you respect me or not. I don't care whether you like me or not. Just do your job, get paid and leave. That's all I ask."

"And then what?" Snarled Dean. "You gonna hire someone else to babysit your family? You don't think their bad habits are just going to disappear, do you? They'll just get into more trouble and you'll go through all this again! And I feel sorry for whoever else gets burdened with you and your demented family."

Castiel's eyes widened in fury before he stood.

"I don't care who we get to replace you. Anyone's better than the arrogance and snark that is you and your brother! Why don't you go back to bootcamp and learn some manners?"

"Manners?" Barked Dean. "That's rich coming from _Mr. NoSocialSkillsWhatsoever_! In fact, I don't think a single person in this family knows how to interact correctly with another human being! No wonder everybody hates you all!"

"I'd say that concert had a good turnout for a band who is loathed by the public, wouldn't you?" Castiel replied without missing a beat and Dean didn't have an answer to that.

"The fact is that you need to learn how to socialise with something that doesn't need ink."

Castiel huffed indignantly. "And you need to learn that you can't treat people like labels to be put into little categorised boxes. Everyone is different and need to be treated as such. Defining someone by a few sentences on a piece of paper does not paint a picture of that person. The sooner you learn that, the more efficient you will be at your job."

And if there was one thing Dean despised more than the man in front of him, it was said man telling him how to do his job.

"And the sooner you get over the fact that Meg ain't ever coming back, the better it will be for everyone else."

Okay, maybe that had been a little harsh.

Castiel stiffened, face blank and Dean wondered if he should apologise for the unnecessary comment when Castiel gripped Dean's arm and somehow dragged him to the door and hurled him into the corridor in the span of a couple of seconds.

Dean winced at the slam of the door and entertained the idea that maybe he had taken the whole discussion a bit too far.

 

* * *

 

"So what you're saying is: you're an idiot?"

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it when he realised, yeah, that's exactly what he was saying.

Sam shook his head with a sigh.

"Thought we were gonna cut them some slack?"

Dean buried his head in his hands. "I know... he just gets under my skin. He's so... emotionless."

"Doesn't sound emotionless to me."

Dean pulled a face. "Well, not _then_. He definitely had a lot to say."

"I don't get why you're so worked up by him. He's just another job."

"I know, I know. I just... we've helped people before, right? We've helped people beat addictions and we've taught them how to interact appropriately with others."

"Well, yeah. But this family is one of the most messed up bunch of people I've ever met. At least our other jobs actually made an effort to work with us. These guys don't even want us here."

Dean shrugged, not sure what point he was trying to make.

"True. I guess the whole history of this family confuses me. It's like they want to be helped, but they're not sure if they want other people to help them. I don't get it."

Sam sighed, shrugging lightly.

"I know what you mean. Gabriel was giving me some pretty mixed signals at the bar. Still, when we got to his room, he looked as though he was grateful."

Dean thought about that and his encounter with Castiel. 

"I get that this is just a job and everything, but... do you think maybe we should try helping them? They sound like they need it and it may make our lives a lot easier if they're not trying to oppose our every move. Might be nice to actually talk to one of them without it resolving into a shouting match."

Sam swirled his coffee in his cup, glad that the hotel's cafeteria was empty so late in the evening.

"I don't see why not. One family can't be as bad as running through a war-zone with a coveted computer hacker and nothing but a short-range pistol for defence."

Dean chuckled at the memory of the fandom-obsessed red head.

"She was a good kid. Enough brains and sass to irritate the highest of army officers."

"That's what got her into a fix in the first place, wasn't it?" Grinned Sam.

Dean nodded with a snort, before the brothers' musings slowly turned back to their current job.

"Think we can help them?" Asked Sam quietly.

"I believe you could, if you set your minds to it. Though it won't be easy."

Sam and Dean startled at the new voice, each reaching for their handgun before they spotted Raphael watching them patiently, paper coffee cup in hand.

"Good to see your reaction times haven't suffered through disuse." The dark skinned man had an amused quirk to the corner of his lips, as though the Winchesters were a source of entertainment to him.

The brothers slowly hid their guns in their pockets and shared a glance.

"We need to get you a bell or something," mumbled Dean and Raphael's smirk widened.

"Apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Yeah, well..." muttered Dean, uncomfortable at being caught off-guard. "Did you need something? Don't let us interrupt."

Raphael held the paper cup a little higher. "I was thirsty." He raised an eyebrow. "But I think you should consider trying to get to know my family a little more. They may surprise you." A smile wormed its way onto his face. "I have a feeling you'll surprise them as well."

Sam frowned thoughtfully.

"What makes you think we can help them? Lucifer and Gabriel still have awful habits and Castiel has made it quite clear that neither of us are welcome. You and Michael are the only ones who tolerate our presence. Even Balthazar manages to avoid us whenever he can."

Raphael nodded slightly, a troubled expression crossing his face.

"You aren't the first guards we've had and I understand if you wish to leave like the others. My family aren't the easiest of people to understand or get along with, but I had hoped that your determination and rare enthusiasm for your jobs would allow you to break through their carefully built walls until you could see them for who they are and not who the rest of the world perceive them to be." 

He sighed quietly, his expression unchanged. "Cliche, I know. But it's true. They have the potential to be better than they are, but they can't do it alone and so far, no one has had the patience, nor the willingness to try to understand them. I had hoped you were different. I realise that it is not part of your job description... but would it hurt to give them a chance?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, interested at the odd request and intrigued by the challenge. It wasn't in his nature to let a job beat him.

"You got any hints and tips you ain't telling us?"

Raphael smiled lightly.

"A few. I've already told you a little bit about Lucifer and Gabriel, I think it time for me to tell you about Castiel. I understand you have been having difficulties with him?"

He directed the last part at Dean and the older Winchester pulled a face at the memory of earlier that day.

"I won't tell you everything as it's not my place, but I think you could do with a bit of help. As you know, Castiel was adopted into our family by our parents. He doesn't know his biological parents; all he knows is he was abandoned at a youth shelter in his very early years and nobody ever saw who dropped him off in the dead of the night, with only a blanket and a cardboard box to stave off the cold.

"He lived at the shelter for four years before our parents 'rescued' him a few weeks before his fifth birthday."

Raphael's face took on a look of regret and sadness.

"Our parents weren't kind to him. They weren't particularly kind to any of us, which is probably one of the reasons our family is like it is, but Castiel had it the worst. He was a way for our parents to seem like they were doing something good for society, a way for them to seem sympathetic to those less fortunate. Nobody realised it was just a front. We were belittled and shunned by our parents most of the time, although they never could disown us for fear of the public seeing them as a disgrace. For a politician, image is _everything_.

"When we broke away from our parents, Castiel was probably the most 'normal' of us all. He met a sweet young girl named Meg, not too mischievous but enough to keep their dates interesting. He was infatuated with her and she with him. When the band started to gain popularity, Castiel worried that Meg would leave him for a more stable relationship, but Meg embraced it and provided Castiel with a distraction when he needed one. They grew closer and closer and Castiel always made sure that the public knew how good an influence Meg was on him. 

"They went everywhere together and it wasn't hard to see that little brother was in love with her. Eventually, he proposed and Meg was just as in love with him because she said yes before knocking him off his feet with a kiss that was borderline inappropriate for the city centre.

"A few months later, as they were planning the wedding, a concert went terribly wrong and a man was allowed into the venue with a gun on his person. Half way through the concert, he started shouting obscenities at the band and pulled the weapon out. Fans fled and the whole room was in chaos. We tried to get everyone off stage, but Meg had somehow been separated from Castiel. She ran across the stage to get to him and was brought down by a bullet. Little brother tried to get to her, but it was already too late and we knew if he set foot on that stage, he would have been subjected to the same fate as his fiancé.

"We had to restrain him and drag him away, but he kept fighting all the way into the car. When we got back home, Castiel collapsed. He fell into a depression over the next few weeks and there was a point where we weren't sure if he was going to attempt to kill himself. He didn't, but he was never the same. He seemed lost, constantly exhausted and then he started shutting everyone out. Nothing anyone says gets through to him.

"We suggested therapy but he shot us down and locked himself in his room for a week. He's started talking to us again, but it's... tentative. He never talks about her, not really. We all worry for him, but we can't bring anything up for fear of him pulling away from us again.

"He's working himself to death. We're concerned that his life has stopped meaning anything to him. We don't want people to see him as cold and stand-offish when he's not really like that. He just needs help, but he won't let anyone in."

Raphael wasn't looking at the brothers anymore and his expression was one of a man lost in memories of a painful and tragic past. His eyes were glazed over and the Winchesters weren't sure whether to snap him out of his haze or let him ride it out.

"I understand if you wish to leave," said Raphael suddenly, obviously back to reality. "Our family comes with a lot of psychological issues that only qualified counsellors would be able to handle."

The brothers glanced at each other. It was clear why the other bodyguards had run the first chance they got, but the Winchesters' military background had allowed them to deal with much worse than a few rockstars with emotional trauma. This was a more ideal setting than that time they'd been stationed in Afghanistan...

Not to mention that Raphael had been the most considerate and tolerant of them out of all the family. It wouldn't hurt to help him out, not after his attempts to assist them in getting to know their charges.

"Yeah, well, we may not be your average psychologists, but we do have a pretty good track record," said Dean with a shrug. "We ain't giving up on you guys just yet."

Sam nodded. "We've never let a job beat us yet and we don't intend on your family being the first."

Raphael cracked a smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The brothers each raised an eyebrow in unison as Raphael took a long swig of his coffee before binning it. He nodded his head at the brothers.

"I think it's time for me to head to my room; it's getting late. Goodnight, Sam. Dean."

He turned quietly on his heel and made his way to the stairs, leaving the brothers to chat softly about the odd conversation.

Eventually, their discussion changed to one of their old friend.

"Hey, didn't Michael say we were visiting Kansa at some point?" Asked Dean thoughtfully.

"Umm... yeah, he did. Next few months or so. Why?"

"Isn't Jo still moonlighting over there?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Think she'd mind us stopping by?" Dean grinned and Sam shook his head with an amused smile.

"As long as you're the one who has to deal with her mother when she inevitably gets hold of your Colt... and wipe that smirk off your face, it wasn't a euphemism."

Dean snorted. "Girl would be good in black ops if only Ellen gave her a bit of leash."

"You can understand her though. Losing a husband to a mission is a pretty valid excuse for not letting your only daughter make the same career choice."

"I suppose. She does make a fantastic mixologist though. I sometimes wonder if Ellen kept her on for business purposes only."

"A lot of men seem to appreciate her," said Sam, though he didn't look at all happy by the statement.

Dean frowned. "Lucky for them Ellen doesn't let her own a weapon."

"Yeah, but then they've got to deal with Ellen herself. I wouldn't call that lucky."

Dean chuckled. "Give me a bullet any day."

"And you'd know."

"Shut up. It was one time and it was Jo's fault for leading me on."

"Dude, she didn't _'lead you on'_. You are just fantastically stupid. She wanted to see what kind of pistol you were carrying."

"Heh."

"Wow. Do you do any of your thinking above your waistband?"

"You know I don't mean it. Jo's a good girl. Really level-headed too. Who else would stay that calm when there was an active bomb practically two feet from your face?"

"It was pretty funny watching her roundhouse that guy. I was impressed. Psycho killer holds a bomb in a bar and the cocktail mixer does an Chuck Norris on his junk. Her dad obviously taught her a few tricks."

Dean laughed at the memory. "I think Ellen almost reconsidered letting her join special ops."

"Not even the world ending would make her do that."

A silence fell between them as they each got lost in their respective memories of the plucky blonde, some more amusing than others.

"Think we should give her a call? We've not spoken in ages," suggested Sam and Dean nodded as he pulled out his phone.

They placed the device between them and hit loudspeaker when the young woman's voice filtered through.

"Jo? Long time no see..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little while to update. Hope you guys are still enjoying it! Improvements are welcome! Comments appreciated :)


	6. Doubting

Sam took to lingering on the ground floor of the hotel in the early morning. When his brother had sleepily asked what he was doing, Sam had told him how Lucifer's so-called _friends_ had forced him into robbing Tiffany's and Sam made it his mission to stop the rockstar from getting into trouble.

Dean had nodded and slumped back onto his pillow.

One dreary Saturday morning, when the sun was struggling to peak over the clouds and the clock read 5:45 AM, Sam's trained ears picked up on a quiet pair of footsteps.

He hid out of view for a few moments until Lucifer pushed through the doors of the main entrance and after a nervous glance around, he stepped into the empty street.

Sam waited all of twenty seconds before trailing him.

Every time Lucifer glanced behind him, Sam made sure that he couldn't be seen and it was only when Lucifer took a short cut through a back alley and Sam knew that Tiffany's was less than two minutes away, did Sam speed up his pace.

Lucifer must have heard him at one point because he tried to break out into a run, muscles tense and anxious, but Sam was already directly behind him and he grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around.

Lucifer looked terrified, as if he had thought it was the police who had followed him and now they had caught him. When he saw Sam though, his facial expression morphed into one of confusion, then irritation.

"What do you want?" Asked Lucifer with a scowl, obviously not realising Sam knew what he was doing.

"I'm more bothered about what you want actually," replied Sam, hand still firmly gripping Lucifer's shoulder. "Does a diamond necklace ring any bells?"

Lucifer's eyes widened and then Sam saw the panic flood back into them even as Lucifer tried to shrug it off.

"Why would I want a necklace? You not fully awake or something?"

Sam sighed softly. He had hoped Lucifer would feel guilty and stop his task, but he had expected him to try to talk his way out of it.

"Lucifer, I know your friends set you up to this last week. We were at that club?"

Lucifer gulped and his eyes shifted from Sam to their surroundings and back again. He didn't say anything so Sam continued.

"You know this is wrong. I heard you last week. You said you didn't understand why you had to steal and they spun some tale about prejudice? You were right. You don't have to steal anything for them. You don't have to get into trouble for them."

Lucifer hesitated, but then he eyed the younger man warily.

"You were eavesdropping. You followed me, just like you have today. You're more like a stalker than a bodyguard. Why should I listen to anything you say?"

Sam shook his head. "I followed you because if I didn't, you'd be locked up at the local station right now."

"...Why haven't you called the cops?"

"Because you've already proved to me that you're having doubts."

Lucifer scowled and was about to protest when Sam explained.

"You're nervous, twitchy even and you tried to ask your _'friends'_ why you had to go through with the whole thing. I know you don't want to do this, you don't believe it's right. So don't do it."

Lucifer looked torn and he glanced at the jewellers before eyeing Sam once more.

"Why does it matter to you? If I get caught, that's one less person for you to babysit."

Sam pulled a face. "It matters because one, it's against the law and two, the press will eat you alive."

Lucifer stiffened. "Because it's part of your job, then? You don't want Michael chewing you out." He tried to escape Sam's grasp, but the younger man held fast.

"Yes. It is part of my job. But that's not why I'm here. If it was just because of my job, I would have dragged you back to the hotel without a second thought and I would have delivered you to your brother, but I don't think that's going to teach you anything. I want you to understand why you don't have to do stuff like this."

Lucifer cocked a curious eyebrow, but his expression betrayed his wariness.

"If I let go, do you promise not to run?" Asked Sam and Lucifer hesitated before nodding.

Sam slowly released the older man and his muscles relaxed marginally when Lucifer kept to his word.

"Look, man, I get it. You want a life that doesn't involve so many cameras. But the thing is, you have a massive influence over the public. People love you, they admire you because of what you do. Why don't you use that to do something meaningful? Help people, give people confidence in themselves, do some good in the world.

"Show everyone that this isn't you. Show them that you're not the celebrity that teaches their children that drugs are a normal part of every day life and stealing stuff is _'cool'_.

"You're better than this, I know you are. Don't let your so-called _'friends'_ pressure you into things like this."

A flash of surprise crossed Lucifer's face, but it vanished as soon as it appeared and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"How would you know? You've seen the trouble I've been in before, the laws I've broken, the people I've angered. The press made sure everyone knows. You've not been with us all that long; how would you know what I'm really like? The only people who gave me another chance are Alistair, Azazel and Lilith."

Sam frowned. "That's not true. Your brothers care deeply for you-"

"My brothers don't trust me! They've never trusted me! Michael has made that quite clear."

"...Maybe if you prove to them that you can be trusted-"

"You sound just like my brother!"

Lucifer looked ready to turn around and make his way over to Tiffany's when Sam came up with an idea.

"You realise they're using you, right? Azazel, Alistair and Lilith. They're worried about getting a long prison sentence after everything they've done, so they prefer to throw you in the deep end. They don't care about you at all. They're just using you to get what they want without them having to do the dirty work themselves. Why do you want to defend people like that?"

Lucifer paused, obviously considering Sam's words.

"I... You don't know what you're talking about. They stayed by my side when I needed them most. They supported me when I was at my lowest." His voice faltered and Sam could read in his posture that the older man was unsure, not entirely confident in his own words.

"How exactly did they support you? They introduced you to drugs when the press became overbearing? They taught you to steal and lie your way through life? They showed you how to disappoint your family?"

Lucifer blinked and whirled to face Sam.

"Michael told you," he accused and Sam shook his head.

"Actually, it was Raphael. More people care about you than you think, Lucifer. That's why I can't understand why you'd turn to these criminals instead of your own family."

Lucifer opened his mouth to argue, but a look of contemplation overtook his face and his jaw snapped shut again.

"Raphael told you?"

Sam nodded and Lucifer frowned. "He always seems to stay away from us all... I never thought he paid any attention to us..."

Sam offered a brief smile. "You'd be surprised who worries for you."

Lucifer blinked and stared at Sam as if only just coming to the realisation that other members of his family were concerned about him. He shuffled his feet sheepishly.

"I always thought Gabe was the only one who cared..."

He trailed off and his expression resembled one of a person in deep thought.

"Lucifer," began Sam softly and the other man's gaze flicked up to him. "All the drugs and the drinking and the theft is hurting you and your family. I know your friends are the ones who are encouraging you, but you've got to stand up for yourself. You don't need to do what they say. You don't need them in order to have a 'normal' life. You don't need to ruin your reputation because they ask you to. Real friends wouldn't ask you to do that."

Lucifer frowned lightly. "Well if they're not really my friends, who is? I've been part of their group for so long... how could they be anything else?"

Sam shook his head. "You've been part of their group for so long because they made you believe that they're the only ones who see you as a regular person and not some high and mighty celebrity. They mock you and ridicule you and I watched you fall right into their trap the other day. You let yourself be led into doing what they wanted even though you were having doubts and that's exactly what they hoped you'd do."

Lucifer weakly tried to protest but Sam wasn't finished.

"Your songs speak of standing up for what you believe in and to be sure of yourself in what you do, yet you don't follow your own advice. What type of example are you setting for others? What do you think people will think of you when you're a hypocrite to your own lyrics?"

Lucifer looked away.

"...I never meant to get into this sort of thing. Never meant to steal. Never meant to get stoned every night. I thought... They told me that if I didn't, then it was because I believed I was too good for them. But I didn't think that at all, so I proved it to them. I just went along with what they said and then one day, I got caught by the cops and Michael just blew up at me. 

"Nobody trusted me after that and nothing I did seemed to help me any, so I thought I might as well carry on and then my face was all over the papers and I got into so much trouble..." He trailed off once more, expression troubled as the memories replayed in his mind.

Sam pulled a sympathetic face. "Then stop. Stop always going along with what they say. Show them that you aren't some sheep blindly following their orders. You'll gain a lot more respect from the people who actually matter, like your family. Prove to everyone that _this_ ," he gestured to the distant Tiffany's shop, "isn't you."

Lucifer didn't speak for a few moments, his face neutral, before he glanced up at Sam and offered him a tight nod.

Sam smiled a little wider before placing a hesitant hand on the singer's shoulder. Lucifer had told Michael that he'd change many times, but maybe Sam could make sure that this time, the vocalist would stick to his words.

"As cliche as it sounds, man, I know your heart's in the right place. You just strayed off the path a little, that's all. Maybe you need a little help getting back on track?"

He posed it as a question; he didn't want to scare Lucifer away by suggesting that he needed someone to 'fix' him, but he wanted the other man to know that help was there if it was needed.

Lucifer eyed him warily for a few seconds before sighing softly.

"They're going to come looking for me. They'll probably harass the family until I go back. They'll call me _'weak'_ and _'pathetic'_ for wanting to be with my family. They're not above throwing petrol bombs. In fact, they've done it before."

Sam shook his head, a small smile playing about his lips. 

"Standing up for your family is anything but 'weak' and 'pathetic'. Defending them against people like that is one of the bravest things you can do. And besides, what part of _'bodyguard'_ do you not understand? Me and Dean won't let anything happen to you guys." 

Lucifer's resulting smile was slow but grateful and Sam pushed his luck further.

"You know, if you ever need anything, anything at all... I'm here. Even if it's four a.m. on a Sunday morning."

Lucifer chuckled quietly and the sound was warm and gentle, nothing like the cruel sneer he usually had.

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied and Sam nodded in approval. Maybe his words had finally got through to the singer...

Lucifer glanced once more at the jewellers before turning his back on it and looking to Sam as if asking what he should do next. Sam gestured back to the alleyway they'd just come through and Lucifer made his way back to the hotel, Sam by his side.

Sam hoped this was a new start.

 

* * *

 

Dean tapped lightly on the door, half hoping nobody would answer.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side and the elder Winchester reasoned that he hadn't seen Castiel leave the hotel room since they'd arrived all those weeks ago.

The lock clicked and the door opened a crack to reveal Castiel's face. He scowled when he saw Dean and tried to slam the door, but Dean jammed his foot in the way.

"Wait. Hear me out?" Asked Dean sincerely and Castiel frowned but eventually opened the door fully. Dean slipped through and Castiel crossed his arms after he'd shut the door.

"What do you want? I'm busy," growled Castiel and Dean looked down guiltily. 

"I want to apologise for the other day. What I said was out of line. I had no right to bring that up."

"The dead girlfriend part or the part where you called my entire family _'demented'_?" Hissed Castiel and Dean winced.

"Both? All of it?" He sighed. "Look, man. I'm sorry. I lost my temper when I shouldn't have and I said some awful things that no one has the right to say to anyone." He shuffled a foot over the carpet, determined not to meet the finance manager's harsh gaze. "I just wanted to let you know that I don't mean all the stuff I said. I regret most of it."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. " _'Most'_?"

Dean glanced up. "I still think you should get out more," he explained and Castiel's other eyebrow joined the first.

"You've come to apologise, yet you're adamant that you're right? What am I supposed to think about that?"

Dean cocked a lopsided smirk. "Think what you want. I know I'm right about you needing friends." The smirk dimmed. "I'm just sorry that it came out how it did the other day. Everybody grieves differently and death affects people in different ways. Nobody can tell you what's right or wrong. I of all people should know that." An early memory of his mother resurfaced and he quickly closed his eyes to banish it.

When he next looked up, Castiel's expression had softened somewhat and his eyes seemed a little kinder (if not a little curious) as he regarded Dean.

"I suppose I should also apologise for my behaviour. I've been told by family on more than one occasion that I can be... stubborn at the best of times. I'm sorry if I offended you."

Dean offered a smile, suddenly seeing hope in the situation.

"No hard feelings?"

The other man blinked, seemingly analysing the sentence before he shook his head slowly.

"No... hard feelings," he agreed and Dean grinned.

"Awesome. Put your coat on."

Castiel blinked once, then again. "Excuse me?"

Dean chuckled. "We got off on the wrong foot. I think we should start over, so I'm taking you out for lunch."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "What? Why?"

"Because you really do need to get out of this room. It's not healthy staying locked up in here all the time. You need some fresh air."

"I didn't realise you were a physician."

Dean startled at the unusually dry quip and he shook his head in amusement.

"Well I don't need a PhD to know that you've not left this hotel for weeks. So put your coat on. It's a little chilly outside."

Castiel huffed. "I'm busy." He gestured to the stack of papers to his left.

"You're always busy," argued Dean. "Besides, they'll still be there when you come back. An hour away from work won't kill you."

Castiel looked ready to argue but when he realised Dean wasn't going to leave unless it was with the finance manager, he sighed and made his way over to the coat hook.

Dean smirked and gestured flamboyantly towards the door. Castiel rolled his eyes and for the first time since he'd arrived, left the hotel.

 

* * *

 

Gabriel stumbled into the rehearsal room, clothes rumpled and hair sticking up in every direction and he plastered himself to the door for a few seconds as he held his breath.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. 

"Obsessed stalker?" 

Gabriel turned wide eyes to Balthazar and quickly put his finger over his lips as his gaze darted to the large window partially covered by blinds. Two young girls (also only partially covered) sauntered past, chatting animatedly to each other, using obscene (and very explicit) gestures and Gabriel seemed to breathe in further as if willing the door to absorb him.

When the girls were out of sight, Gabriel let out a sigh of relief and trudged towards his usual position for rehearsals, carefully shucking the _Fender_ strap over his shoulders. When he turned, Lucifer snickered.

"You've got a little something... right... here..." He said as he gestured to his neck and Gabriel touched two fingers to the area and scrunched up his nose when they came back bright red and sticky. He scrubbed the cherry lipstick off his skin.

After running a hand through his hair to create some form of order out of it, the guitarist shook his head wearily.

"Can we start now? I want to get the last four hours out of my mind."

Lucifer shrugged, used to those kind of sentences from his brother. "We could, if the Queen had decided to grace us with her presence today." He nodded towards the empty drum kit and Gabriel groaned.

"What was the excuse this time?"

Balthazar strummed a few notes on his bass. "Didn't give one."

"Fantastic. Why haven't we sacked her yet?"

"Guys love her. And she's a pretty good drummer. That's kind of important too," muttered Lucifer and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

Sam and Dean shared a look. Abbadon had never struck them as the punctual type, but to miss out on a rehearsal for no reason at all other than she didn't want to go was quite an insult to the rest of the band. Surely they could find a player of equal skill who would love the opportunity to play with _The Archs_?

"Either of you two good with a couple of sticks?" Asked Balthazar half-heartedly and Dean and Sam silently shook their heads.

"Sorry," murmured Sam.

"Ah well. Worth a try," huffed the bassist.

An hour passed and with nothing to show for it other than an electric rendition of 'Duelling Banjo's', Lucifer stood from one of the convenient beanbag chairs and replaced his mic back on its stand.

"That's it, I'm leaving. She's not gonna show."

Just as the others were contemplating doing the same, Lucifer walked towards the double doors and was hit in the face by one as it flew open.

He doubled over, clutching his nose and cursed in three different languages before standing upright to glare at the newly arrived Abaddon.

Sam made to help Lucifer as Balthazar frowned.

"Nice of you to make an appearance."

Abaddon sent a withering glare his way.

"I was busy, not that it's any of your business."

Gabriel pulled a face. "Actually, it is considering your schedule seems to be clashing with our rehearsal times."

Abaddon eyed the guitarist with distaste.

"Well, we all know what your _schedule_ consists of." She turned her nose up in disgust. "Was the latest male, female, or a mixture of the two?"

Gabriel scowled and tore his gaze away, which prompted Abaddon to sneer.

"Ah. Females. Plural. I can see two shades of lipstick on your collar."

The guitarist's lips pursed into a thin line as he tried to wipe away the offending evidence. Abaddon clicked her tongue in distaste before making her way towards the drum kit.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow.

"Has your majesty finally decided to rehearse?"

Gabriel snickered as Lucifer grinned and Abaddon whipped her head around to glare at the bassist.

Sam thought he heard her snarl, but it could have been his imagination because he was checking Lucifer's face for any blood or bruises from where it had made contact with the door.

Dean later confirmed that the redhead did in fact growl at Balthazar.

The band slowly settled into their regular positions and the session commenced, with Sam and Dean staying out of the way as they listened. Technically, the rehearsal in the hotel's conference room only warranted one bodyguard, but both Winchesters found themselves actually enjoying the music in _The Archs'_ repertoire, which is why both had decided to be present for today's rehearsal.

They didn't expect Abaddon to be quite as difficult as she was proving to be.

The diva was constantly interrupting songs and throwing insults at the other players and at one point, the Winchester's thought she was going to sling a stick at Gabriel. She didn't, but it was a close thing.

She complained about everything, from the way Lucifer sung the lyrics, to the lyrics themselves, to the small dent in the body of Gabriel's guitar. She moaned about the other band members, the acoustics of the room, the fact that Sam and Dean were watching them rehearse and that somehow the new song they were working on might get 'leaked'.

"I think it's nap-time for someone," Balthazar muttered under his breath and Gabriel smirked along with Lucifer. Unfortunately, it didn't go unheard by Abaddon and she rounded on the bassist.

"What's wrong, Balthazar? Don't know how to handle a woman? You certainly can't handle them in a relationship, can you? What happened to the last one?" She sneered. "Oh, I remember. She used you for your money then when she got tired of pretending to be in love with you, she dumped you for a hotter guy."

She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face as Balthazar scowled and Gabriel grated his teeth together. 

"I'm sure I've heard a story like that before," continued Abaddon before flashing a sarcastic smirk at Gabriel, who clenched his fists in anger.

"What happened with the one before that?" Abaddon asked, directing her attention back to Balthazar. "Was she the one who dumped you because she never saw you because of your so-called 'busy schedule' or was it the one who was dating four guys at once? Maybe it was the one who went out with you for five months on a bet. I remember her. She got twenty dollars out of it. Took five months of your life for twenty dollars. And you thought she actually loved you." She pulled a sympathetic face.

"Poor baby," she mocked and Balthazar looked somewhere between furious and ashamed.

"Hey! Put a cork in it," growled Gabriel and Abaddon snorted in disdain.

"No, I want to know more about Balthazar's failed love life. I want to know if they dump him because he can't satisfy them or if he's just so pathetic that they turn to someone who isn't as desperate as him. Maybe I'll ask Amelia; I heard you two aren't getting along too well. Something about her already having a husband?"

Balthazar's eyes widened.

"How did-?" He clamped his mouth shut again. "She thought he'd died in service. She hasn't seen him in years. I didn't know." He paused and frowned. "Why am I telling you this? It isn't any of your business."

"You are pathetic if you feel the need to prove your own worth as a lover to others. Now I know why they left you. Who wants to be stuck with a guy as weak as you?" Abaddon said, ignoring Gabriel and Lucifer's rapidly darkening expressions.

Balthazar looked ready to argue, but then as his mind registered her words, his face took on a look of a man who was doubting himself.

Abaddon used this to her advantage.

"I think you should take a good look at yourself. So many people are repulsed by you. They've left you. All those people can't be wrong. Have you ever thought that maybe there's something wrong with you, not them? Have you ever really considered why you can't keep a relationship together?" 

As Balthazar shrunk in on himself, his mind beginning to come to the conclusion that maybe she was right, Lucifer grabbed Abaddon's arm.

"I think you should leave," he hissed and Abaddon smirked at him triumphantly.

"Is that you or the crack talking?" She threw over her shoulder as she sashayed out of room.

"Ignore her, Balthy. She's a demon. She doesn't know what she's talking about," huffed Gabriel as he took a step closer to his cousin.

Balthazar nodded mutely and Sam and Dean wondered if they would have to keep a closer eye on the bassist from then on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was getting a little sick of this chapter, so I'm not sure if it sounds rushed. I may come back and edit it later. Once again, if you have any requests for stories, I'm all ears!
> 
>  _EDIT:_ I realised that I'd spelt 'Abaddon' wrong this entire chapter, so I went back to fix it all. Sorry about that!

**Author's Note:**

> It's unusual for me to post anything that's not already completed, but because I've not put anything up for a while, I thought I'd place this little idea up here for people to read. It also gives you guys time to offer improvements and (constructive) criticisms if you so wish. And yes, _The Archs_ is short for _Archangels_.
> 
> I have got the plot pretty much sorted, I just have to write it! 
> 
> Have a great 2016!


End file.
